Book of Gemini
by Rival Argentica
Summary: The young master cannot keep his secrets hidden forever. Briefly explores the Twin Ciel Theory. [On indefinite hiatus.]
1. His Master, Reminiscent

Book of Gemini

* * *

 _Prologue._

"No!" A tear-stricken Elizabeth thrashed violently against the uncomfortable police officer, her hand struggling desperately to reach out to the man she loved ever since she was born. Her strength surprised the man holding her on the arms, who then shouted for more of his comrades to help him restrain the hysteric girl. But their efforts were all beginning to be futile, as her resistance only grew. "No, let me go! Let me go! _I need to see him!_ "

But no matter how much she struggled to see, the crowd persisted to block her view. It was not just the crowd, though—Elizabeth was not the only one who shed the tears. There were others, many others, who grieved the serious injuries of a beloved family, friend, or relative; although some were simply overcome by the shock of such unbelievable news, staring blankly into the scene of the accident as if they still couldn't comprehend if this wasn't indeed just a nightmare they were stuck from waking up from. There was a sick dread hanging in the air as the policemen discussed the terrible accident about the fallen train, and doctors were called in by panicked citizens. Curiosity had won over the bystanders who heartlessly circled the scene of the accident, not even paying any mind to the crying Lady Elizabeth and the grievers as they murmured among themselves with shock in their voices, horror in their eyes, and hands onto their open mouths, watching the mourners shed their tears over the bloody corpses laid out on the floor.

Elizabeth gritted her teeth, tightly clenching her knuckles, blonde hair sticking to her wet, tear-stained face.

 _No. Don't think like that. Not_ corpses _, Lizzy. Please._

"I beg you, my lady! Let us all calm down and talk this over some—"

"Some tea? Some _tea?_ " Unbelievable. She never felt this before, and the twisted feeling was absolutely terrible, but right now, all she felt was that she wanted to _stab them all_. Why couldn't they just let her see him? That was a simple wish, her _only_ wish that they could possibly ever give; was it that hard to grant it to her? "No! Thank you _not_ for the _tea_ ; I bear the right to see my father! I want to see him, this instant! Let me go! _Papa!"_

"H-hey—my lady—but the Marchioness commanded us not to let you near—"

"No!" With one last struggle, Elizabeth was then able to yank her arms away from the bewildered police officers. "I do not _care!_ " Finally having broken free from her human obstacles, Elizabeth ran over and pushed the whispering people aside to see her father. "Papa! Pa—"

The horrible sight that then came before her shattered her shocked, innocent eyes and painted them a bloody red.

She felt her knees weaken and her resolve to collapse. There was a gasp caught in her throat, but she couldn't muster even just the tiniest drop of strength to let it out through her trembling lips. She took one quivering step forward, a hand hesitantly outstretched, as if unsure whether or not she should even dare to take a step closer. But then—

"Lizzy."

Her vision was then overcome by a soothing, comforting black. Her eyes were now covered by a hand, obscuring her sight from such a terrible reality. She was breathless over such a shock that the crowd went silent as they pitifully watched her inhale precious gulps of air. For a moment, the shell-shocked lady paused, her scattered, panicking senses finally coming over to her. Elizabeth was then finally able to release the teary gasps from deep within her and she turned around to clutch at her brother's sleeves.

"Oh, Edward!" Her voice was so sorrowful that it made anyone who heard her bite their lip in agony, which was exactly how Edward felt at the moment. "Papa…he is…is he…?"

The young marquis tremblingly stroked his sister's hair in an attempt to keep her heart-wrenching sobs from spilling over and drown herself in her own sorrow. And then he scolded himself for acting with such weak force in his trembling hands. No. He had to be stronger than this. He struggled to keep his composure straight. He had to be strong for the fragile form of his usually energetic little sister who had always been there to be strong for him. He had to.

"He's going to be alright, Lizzy," whispered Edward gently, his eyes visibly fraught with misery as he watched the medics hurriedly put his father next in a stretcher. They were going to transport him to the nearest hospital where the wounds from his bloody accident could be treated immediately. He had been informed that the accident wouldn't kill him—and for that, he would be eternally grateful to the heavens for that—but, still, that bloody sight was sure to cause trauma in his young little sister for years. "He's going to be alright. I promise you."

"Really?" Elizabeth looked up and then stared at her brother's green eyes with her own teary ones. "P…promise?"

Edward couldn't help but smile at the little light of hope that persisted to shine in his sister's eyes even in times of grief. The elderly brother knelt before her and firmly put his hands to steady her shaking shoulders. He looked at her, directly in the eye.

"I promise."

The tender moment lasted between brother and sister, simply standing there amongst the crowd, smiling to each other. But the moment did not last for long.

"Elizabeth."

Brother and sister looked up to see their mother, dressed in her usually stiff attire with her paraffin held like it was the sceptre of a royal. And she was glowering down at them, as usual.

But no, it was not 'as usual'. As the siblings stared at her more closely, they realized that there was something different, something… _foreign_ in that usually stiff countenance, in that usually strict façade, that would simply make one who was looking very carefully at Marchioness Midford doubt it was Marchioness Midford at all. Edward and Elizabeth met each other's hands and squeezed tightly. Seeing their mother look like that was enough to make them feel weaker, like lost children under the rain unable to find their way back home.

Because their mother looked distraught for once.

Frances must have realized that she had carelessly left a gap from which her real misery spilled through, because the strict words that next came out of her mouth sounded a little forced, as if she was constraining herself to become strong for the sake of her children. Ever the lecturer, Frances let the end of her parasol hit the ground in a domineering fashion.

"I told you never to come out of the house. I told you to stay put. I told you not to follow us here. And yet you have disobeyed a direct order from your mother." The edge in Frances' green eyes sharpened, as would a knife gleam when angled correctly against the moonlight. "A lady shouldn't lose control even in times of distress, but you have showcased _precisely_ the opposite. You have displayed such unacceptably indecent behaviour, Lizzy." The harsh words were enough to make Elizabeth bow her head in shame. "And for that, you shall receive punishment."

Edward was thrown off guard by his mother's heinous statements. He defensively stepped in front of his ashamed sister and spread his arms out, as if to protect his sister from the monster that threatened to hurt her. "But mother! She—"

"But I don't blame you." Frances merely ignored her son's behaviour and took a step closer to her daughter. A moist sheet formed to cover Marchioness Midford's eyes, a sight that most definitely made Lizzy's own widen in disbelief—all her life, she had known her mother as a strong woman who never fancied sentimentality. And yet, here she was. Frances Midford, a proud Knight of the British Royal Family. But no matter what her name carried, she was, after all, still a wife, a wife who loved her husband with all her heart, no matter stern and condescending and rigid she might seem on the outside. Of course her husband's accident had shaken her to the core, and, this time, she wouldn't blame Elizabeth for having acted the way she had.

Frances looked at her daughter. Not yet a woman, but not anymore a girl. She was growing to be a promising young lady who would someday bear the heavy title of Countess Phantomhive. She had been trained to be physically strong ever since and had turned out to be gifted with such talent, but Frances was also well aware that her daughter was emotionally fragile. Lizzy would not be able to bear the dark days ahead, when her father would be writhing in pain on his bed while undergoing medication for his wounds and injuries. It would be best if she was kept away from all this until this mental torture was done.

As a mother, she could do this much for Lizzy. She had already failed to do so in the Campania. That had been a heavy decision for Elizabeth to make, of revealing her real self to the Earl Phantomhive, and Frances felt the slightest pang of guilt that she was part of the cause of her daughter's misery. She knew that it was for Elizabeth's own good, but she had to train her with fencing even though she didn't like it.

And Elizabeth had been an obedient daughter. She probably hated her own mother for forcing her into things she didn't want, and the least that Frances felt that she could do for her daughter now was prevent her from feeling any more of this misery.

Frances knew what made Elizabeth happy. Frances knew _who_ made Elizabeth happy. And that's why…

"Lizzy. My daughter." The strict tone still existed, but this time, it was dulled by something else entirely, something Elizabeth couldn't quite recognize—but it was painful for her ears to hear. Frances at first couldn't meet her eyes, but then was able to summon the strength to be able to. "I would be…I would be more at ease if you didn't have to stay here to witness what is to come ahead. The doctors say that your father will heal, but it will take great time." Frances struggled to summon a smile. "As a lady such as yourself, you must be kept from gruesome things like these, and I, as your mother, had made it an oath to make it possible whenever I can. I will make your brother send a letter to the Phantomhive Manor so they would be expecting you. I want you to stay there until all things here in London are finally at ease. Make yourself at home there. Do not worry about us here. Understood?"

Elizabeth bit her lip from the inside, obviously disinclined at her mother's decision that she should be kept away from all this. What was she? A mere, innocent little girl who is not supposed to deal with such heavy matters like these?

But then, despite her own dispositions, she forced herself to nod yes.

Just like any good lady.

* * *

I. His Master, Reminiscent

* * *

The horses' hooves clopped on the wet ground as the footman threw the reigns to keep the carriage moving over the hard brick terrain. The said carriage was carrying Lady Elizabeth Midford, accompanied by Paula, her loyal maidservant. It seemed to Paula, however, that her young mistress is out of her element this morning. Her mood matched that of the gloomy skies which brought the threat of an approaching storm. Her usually bright green eyes were dulled by melancholy as reflections of a cold, grey landscape flashed past her window. They have been travelling for hours all night and day on their way to the Phantomhive Estate, where Elizabeth was prompted by her mother to stay for a fortnight or two. Under normal circumstances, the carriage would be filled with the pleasant noise of Elizabeth's happy chattering as they went on through their journey. She should be talking about how excited she is to spend all her time bonding with the fiancée she loved with all her heart.

But today, the carriage was so quiet that it was slowly starting to unnerve the maidservant.

"Um…" She twiddled with her thumbs. "…my lady?"

This seemed to snap Elizabeth out of her trance. "Oh, Paula!" Ever the kind-hearted angel, Elizabeth immediately dove in to apologize for something that wasn't even wrong. "I…I was lost in my thoughts…and, I…I…do forgive me! Were you saying something? Because I haven't been listening, and I…"

Paula bit her lip, debating over what she should say. But then eventually she relented.

"Ah, it was nothing at all, lady."

A few moments of silence passed after that, only the noise of the silence dominating the air. Until Elizabeth started to speak up again.

"Paula?"

Paula all too eagerly smiled at her mistress, thankful for finally having a conversation that would hopefully brighten up the glum air.

"Yes, lady?"

Elizabeth thought about it for a moment. She struggled to compose the sentence inside her head with the most proper choice of words she could ever think of. But when she finally came up with it, the young lady only seemed to be under more distress; despite that, however, she bravely delved into the question.

"Do you ever think…that I am…too…" Elizabeth forced herself to say the word aloud. "…gullible?"

After all, her whole life she had been cultivated to grow into a beautiful, white lily, sitting innocently atop the gentle surface of clear, crystal water where everyone could admire the lovely petals that had her adorned. To the world, she was merely a flower among a multitude more.

And nothing else.

The question threw the maidservant rather off balance. She had been expecting Elizabeth to ask something about a new pair of pink shoes, a dress full of lovely frills, or a Sunday hat adorned by glittering ribbons, all as part of her usual plans of charming her fiancé yet again with one of her antics.

"M-My lady," she stammered uncomfortably, extremely flustered. "I—I don't—I am not in the place to answer such a q-q-question!"

Elizabeth stared at her spluttering servant for a moment or two, and then felt the guilt of putting Paula in such a discomfort. "Oh." Ashamed of herself, she turned her head away from Paula, whose face was reddening like an apple. "I see."

And she always had. They think she doesn't see it, but in truth, she does. They still think that she was an immature, innocent little girl who cannot feel anything deeper than the shallow waters where the water lily grows. They _still_ think that, after all these years that she had grown out of her childhood, now slowly blossoming through womanhood. They have no idea that even water lilies have roots that go deeper down the surface from where the flower blooms…because underneath the pure and chaste white petals are skeletons of roots that reach far down below the darkness, searching for life with their thin, scraggly, skeletal bones.

She knew it was rather selfish of her to think of herself when she had to be thinking of her father, in the hospital, in medication, in pain. And here she was, living in a carriage, all fine and dandy. Yes, she worried about her father, but what disconcerted her more was the fact that her mother did not seem her fit or strong enough to bear predicaments such as these. She didn't know whether she should be happy that her mother wanted to keep her away from family troubles, or insulted that she wasn't seen as fit enough, maybe not ever, just because she was a lady, a younger sister, a woman in the society who should be kept naïve and surrounded by the pretty little things in nursery rhymes. They really think that she couldn't see them all behind their countenances, when, in fact, she saw all of them.

How come they never saw _her_?

A sudden flash of intense bright light flooded the carriage for a mere fraction of a second, which was then followed by a clap of ear-splitting thunder. Elizabeth gasped, and then looked out the window to see that it had started to pour. The scattered citizens from the outside covered their heads with their arms to shield themselves from the drizzle, which was quickly turning out to be a torrent. A mother gathered her two children to her, clutching tightly at their hands, and made sure to usher them inside a nearby store, all while their father removed his coat and covered his wife and children's heads with it to keep them dry despite him having to bear with the pelting rain.

"Oh my, such a storm!" exclaimed Paula. "It seems as if we would have to stay at an inn for today!"

But she wasn't being paid any mind. Elizabeth was still staring out the window, looking at the family with some envy in her eyes. She smiled despite herself. She wanted her and Ciel and their children to be like that, too—a normal family who would strive to be together even through the rain. Even with the burden of the Phantomhive title, she was determined to make her family with Ciel to be as full of love and laughter and happiness as possible.

But then the carriage abruptly stopped. The sudden absence of motion was what yanked her back into reality. Her senses came to sharpen, and the noise around her came into clearer focus as Elizabeth could now hear from inside the curse words escaping from their footman's mouth. His anger was apparently provoked for some reason. She wondered what the sudden fuss was all about, and inquired Paula about it.

"What's wrong with Renato?"

Paula turned her head away from the carriage window to look at her young mistress. "It's nothing of great importance, lady! But our footman suddenly saw a cat ahead of the road, but the kitten would not run off. It was meowing at Renato, which made him angry, I suppose; but the pitiful kitten looks like it wanted to be adopted into a new home…"

Elizabeth blinked. "Huh? A…a kitten?"

And that was when it struck her.

" _Look, Father, Lizzy! A kitten!"_

 _A young Elizabeth walked over to him. "Ciel! What have you fou…" And then she gasped. "Oh, oh! How lovely!" The young lady clapped her hands and jumped up and down in glee. "A kitten, indeed!"_

" _My, my, Ciel," said a chuckling Vincent, walking over to the two children. He watched as Ciel laughingly petted the kitten's soft brown fur with chubby, childish fingers. "The kitten loves you."_

" _Yes, doesn't he!" Ciel let Lizzy pet the kitten, who then eventually cradled it in her arms like a mother as Ciel stood from behind her like a father. Lizzy began singing Twinkle Twinkle for the kitten with Ciel stumbling along the lyrics, which made the young lady laugh and the kitten to look at the couple as if questioning them what the hell they were singing. The mere sight amused Vincent. They were only seven-year-old kids, and yet he could very well imagine the two creating a family that was sure to be full of love and laughter and happiness._

" _Aw! The kitten loves us!" This was therefore Elizabeth's proclamation after her and her fiancé's little concert._

" _Indeed! Let us keep her!" Ciel turned pleadingly over to his father. "Please, Father? The kitten is lost…perhaps we should keep her? Please? Pleeeaaase?"_

 _Vincent looked thoughtful for a second, considering, but, in the end, differing. "I really wish we could, but both of you know that we can't. Right?"_

 _And Lizzy and Ciel did. They both let their heads down, disappointed that they couldn't keep their newfound feline friend. But the disheartened mood only lasted for a second when Ciel suddenly had another idea._

" _I know, I know! What if we simply let the kitten stay in our house until the owner comes to get her? So that we can play with Cookie a while longer?"_

 _Vincent blinked. "…Cookie?"_

" _It is the name we gave her! Cookie!" Lizzy was simply overjoyed at the idea of having a new companion for playing house. "Isn't it going to be super-duper cute? I am the mother, Ciel is the father, and Cookie is—"_

"— _our daughter!" giggled Ciel. He turned to his father with big, pleading eyes. "Please, Papa? Just this once? Please?"_

 _And then Lizzy joined him by clasping her hands together and forcing the utter cuteness from her own big eyes to add to Ciel's already cute ones. Together, they said…_

" _Pleeeaaaaaaase?"_

 _Vincent, thoroughly amused, chuckled and patted the both of them on the head. "Alright, you two. But only until we find the owner—"_

" _YAAAAY! We're going to play with Cookie, we're going to play with Cookie!"_

A silent tear slid down Elizabeth's cheek at the memory. Her lips simply couldn't help but utter the name.

"…Cookie."

But Paula did not notice the melancholy in Elizabeth's voice and had misheard her. "Yes, a kitten, lady! And it seems as if it's a pretty stubborn one at that!" declared Paula. "Shall I tell our footman to just throw the kitten awa—"

"No!" Elizabeth, overcome by emotion, stood up and stomped out of the carriage, carrying her heavy dress with both her hands as the rain from outside drenched her and her clothes and flattened her bouncy hair into dead strands, all the while ignoring Paula's pleads for her to come back to the carriage. Elizabeth didn't pay any mind to the shocked footman, Renato, who was telling the lady that she should get back to the carriage lest she wanted a cold. _But a measly cold is only a small price to pay for this_ , she thought. She marched over to the kitten and knelt down onto the ground, soaking her dress with more filth as the rainwater from the ground seeped in with the materials in the fabric. Paula and Renato simply watched in astonishment as their young mistress gathered the little, trembling ball of chocolate fur into her wet, gloved hands, the rainwater streaming down from her eyes that all might as well have been tears.

And then she decided. She decided that she should bring this kitten with her over to Ciel as her gift to him. This kitten might bring to surface a memory he had with her, and then at least bring a smile onto his face. Of course, Elizabeth was not an idiot, she was well aware of the fact that Ciel didn't particularly _like_ things like these, all these that he considered childish ever since he had started to act (rather, pretend) to be the adult that he wasn't. But perhaps if she showed him this kitten, his memories would be triggered, and then he would be back to his normal self again—or at least, he would be able to summon even just a small smile, like he used to do for her all those years ago. Elizabeth decided that even the smallest of all smiles would be enough to satisfy her and make her happy, because, after all…

Ciel's happiness is her own.

~`o'~

"A string of mysterious deaths?" Ciel Phantomhive looked up from the letter in his hand to look at its deliverer, the Queen's butler and secretary: the Earl Grey. He gently put the letter down on the surface of the mahogany table and brought a cup of tea near his lips to take a sip. "That's unfortunate. What made the deaths mysterious?"

Charles Grey diagonally put down his fork on his empty desert plate and crossed his legs in that arrogant manner of his. As Sebastian silently came to collect the plate, Grey started to speak. "Well, for one thing, at first glance the deaths seemed random. But it'd be no such thing as random if all the victims died because of a similar cause."

"And that would be?"

"Deterioration of bodily functions."

Silence reigned over the drawing room after that grave declaration.

"But then," continued Grey, who began stretching his arms and putting his hands behind his head, as relaxed as ever, "even though Scotland Yard is being nothing but a useless pile of rubbish, at least it was able to provide one bit of info. They pointed out another connection between them. The deaths only involved the sons of rich aristocrats throughout our country who, strange enough, had just returned from a similar private boarding school. Oh, and plus, they all seemed to have behavioural problems before they went there."

"Behavioural problems?" The Earl of Phantomhive arched an eyebrow, intrigued. "Would you care to elaborate?"

"Now, now, what would I know about _that?_ " Grey laughed, breaking the ice. "Aren't _you_ a spoiled brat yourself?"

Ciel's raised eyebrow twitched in annoyance. Sebastian snickered from the background.

"And what are _you_ laughing about?" demanded his irritated young master.

"Oh, nothing, my lord." The butler, still smiling to himself, gracefully poured his master another cup of tea and handed it to him. "Please pay me no mind."

"Ah, well, joking aside," said Grey, receiving another plate of cake from Sebastian. "What worries Her Majesty is that the deaths would continue to occur if it isn't stopped. The Marquis Maxwell, one of the Queen's closest acquaintances, reported that his son, Ian, after having returned from that private boarding school, was acting rather…strange."

"How so?"

"He wasn't able to say. He merely sent a letter to Her Majesty saying that he had something to report about his suspicions regarding the boarding school, but he didn't get to arrive." Grey put a slice of cake onto his mouth, his hand playing with his silver fork. "Maxwell was reported dead."

"And this Ian Maxwell. Did he…"

"Yes. He died two days later after his father. Same cause as all the other boys—deterioration of bodily functions."

Ciel merely opened his eye and stared back at his reflection on his teacup's murky liquid.

"And if it helps in any way, here." Grey produced a worn out diary from his vest and handed it to his fellow earl. "Marquis Maxwell had written on this the day before he died. It might give you a clue about this case, if you sniff around the words carefully enough with that cute puppy nose of yours."

Ciel growled at him, but then took the diary and opened it. Leafing through the dull, yellowed pages, he found dated records, journals, even shopping lists, until he got to the last page where he became witness of Marquis Maxwell's last words.

 _I don't know what to do anymore. Ian is my beloved son, and yet the person who returned just didn't…seem to be like him. It was as if he was a completely different person when he came back. Well, the reason I sent him to the school L'éveil de Castor was to have his mischievous behaviour fixed in the first place, but still, because I am his father, I know him. I know that he must going through troubles of his own. I would ask him, but he wouldn't tell me anything, and then act as if nothing was happening at all. This really unnerves me. It just isn't like him at all._

 _I love my son. And I am simply worried of him. I do hope that Her Majesty will be able to help me regarding my concerns and…_

"Father…" The words drifted into nothingness for Ciel as his own eye widened. The words triggered something, and he saw into a memory of his own. His lips moved into their own accord, and the two butlers, black and white, stared at him, but the earl was now too lost into his own world that he was able to comprehend his surroundings no longer.

"…worried?"

 _It was a stormy night, and everything about anything was frightening him. The noisy pattering of the heavy hail-like rain, the terrifying flashes of lightning, and the startling clap of thunder all contributed to his fear. He couldn't sleep. He had drawn his blankets all around him, and he was sitting straight up in his bed, arms wrapped around his drawn up knees, head ducked low as if wanting to escape from such a living nightmare._

 _And then the door opened. Light spilled from the outside, and Vincent Phantomhive stood there, looking worriedly over at the trembling bundle of fear from underneath the thick quilts._

" _Is…something wrong, my son?"_

" _N…no!" The little boy clutched the blankets tighter around him. "Nothing, Father, do not worry about me! Nothing is…wrong…"_

 _Another flash of lightning and another deafening crackle of thunder. A yelp escaped the boy's lips and he shrank even further, if that was possible. The father simply chuckled and walked over to sit on his son's bed. He removed the quilts blanketing him and put his arms around his little boy._

" _Ah. You can tell me. I know there's something wrong."_

"… _you…" The child sniffled, his eyes moist with tears, but he told himself to be brave and strong and looked up at his father, his big blue eyes sparkling against the dark. "…you really know?"_

 _Vincent smiled and pulled his son closer to him. "Of course I do. I'm your Father. I will always be here to protect you." He patted his head with a loving hand, which seemed to surprise the young toddler. "Now, tell me. What is wrong?"_

" _I'm…I'm…" The scared little kid's voice was trembling, and Vincent could feel it from the way the child's hand shook in his own, squeezing his tightly. "I'm scared, Father…"_

And then lightning suddenly split the heavens in a frightening shatter, followed by a bang of extreme thunder that yanked Ciel away from his reminiscence. He stared up from his reflection on his classic cup of Earl Grey, and then found that the Queen's butler was regarding him with one raised sceptical white eyebrow.

"Something wrong, Earl?"

"…something…wrong…" Ciel clutched the Marquis' diary in his hands more tightly than ever, as if they were the only things holding him onto dear life. "…you say?"

"Hey, what's the matter with you?" Charles Grey was now doubly curious, wondering if the Watchdog had already found a lead in the Maxwell's journal entry. But he also felt a tad annoyed to be ignored like this. "Were you even _listening_ to what I was sa—"

The doors suddenly burst open with a happy, feminine squeal. "Cieeeeeel!"

 _The scream that escaped his mouth as he struggled to writhe out of the cage felt like sandpaper scratching his dry throat—pained, agonizing, horrified._

" _CIEL!"_

 _No. This can't be real. This can't be happening. This nightmare couldn't be…_

" _No! Don't take me away!"_

 _It was happening. This terrifying nightmare was coming to life, like corpses on the ground rising up under the name of the dead, and they were strangling him, forcing the air out of his lungs, stabbing him over and over again with the excruciation of a thousand knives—_

" _No, I beg you!"_

" _Somebody, help me!"_

" _Anyone at all. I don't care who."_

" _Save us all!"_

" _CIEL!"_

Sebastian firmly landed a hand onto the Earl's small and trembling shoulder.

"Young master?"

At the physical contact, Ciel woke up in shock to see three faces peering in over at him. He blinked for a moment or two, the pupil in his eye shrinking into pinpricks at the horror hidden from within, the breaths coming out of his mouth small and rapid. It took him more than a few seconds to register his surroundings, and that was when he realized that he was not in the cage anymore. He was in the Phantomhive Manor, in the drawing room, receiving another case from Her Majesty as was his role as her loyal watchdog.

 _Of course. Of course. Don't be ridiculous._

The rate of his heart slowed down.

And then, relieved that his breathless master was alright, Sebastian cleared his throat. "Master. Lady Elizabeth has arrived."

It was only due to this that Ciel suddenly became aware that his fiancée was already there.

"Cieeel!" Elizabeth lunged herself forward to hug Ciel tightly. "You had me so worried! You looked so pale and I thought you were going to faint! But I'm so glad to see you today, Ciel!"

Charles Grey recognized the girl from the fencing class, the genius who always managed to rival his own swordsmanship. And she was a _lady_. Simply outrageous. "What? Is that Midford's dau—"

" _Elizabeth!"_ But then of course, Ciel had already beaten him from gaining the lady's attention. He was currently being strangled to death by one of the girl's bone-crushing hugs, all the while squealing, "Oh, my Ciel! My darling boy, you're just so cute! I could keep hugging you like this all day!"

 _All day._

"N-no, thank you, Elizabeth! And anyway, what is with this manner? We are in front of the Queen's butler and we were having a very important discussion on—"

"Another _tedious_ discussion? Bah!" Elizabeth pulled away but she still firmly held Ciel on both shoulders, a smile happily radiating from her pretty face. "There are more important things in life than that! You! Yes, _you_ are the only one who matters to me, Ciel, no one else! Also, you are just the stubborn young gentleman, are you not? Time and time again, I've _always_ told you to call me Lizzy!"

"Well then— _Lizzy_ —"

But she wasn't listening. She was already talking about balls and parties and suchlike that it was as impossible to make her stop as it is to stop a train without brakes skiing down from a mountain. Was she really _this_ gullible as her family told him that she was? Ciel wanted to bring up the fact that Elizabeth shouldn't act so happily with what had happened to her father on the train accident in London two days ago, but then the warning from Edward's letter flashed into his mind:

 _Mother made me send Elizabeth there. I'm making it your exclusive job to make her happy while she's there! THIS IS THE ONLY TIME I'M EVER DOING SOMETHING LIKE THIS, ALRIGHT?! So don't you dare mess up with my sister!_

"—and I really thought that the clothes I found in Harrods would suit you so much I really brought them especially for you and I thought you would look lovely in them if we stage to have a ball for tonight oh-I-am-so-excited-to-dance-the-evening-away-with-my-beloved- _fiancé_ —"

"Lizzy!" he said, and Elizabeth paused from fantasizing about the night of her life. Relieved to have finally gotten a grip on her relentless rambling, Ciel put a hand onto his nose to scratch an itch that had suddenly blossomed on it. Elizabeth looked at him expectantly, waiting for him to say the words. Ciel had intended to scold her about having to behave more like a lady and less like a child, but the words had left him. He sighed. For some reason, whenever he looked at her big, green eyes, he would just simply forget how to be angry at her.

"I was just…merely going to tell you to punctuate your sentences."

She cocked her head meekly at the side. "Huh?"

"Nothing. Sebastian?"

Sebastian's deep voice cut through the air as he hovered from behind Elizabeth. "Would the lady fancy a cup of tea?"

She turned to him and gave him a nice curtsy. "It would be my pleasure. Thank you, Sebastian!"

"Ugh, now _that_ was a whole lot of blaring pointlessness," said Charles Grey as he watched the lady settle down and have her cup of tea. "Now, Earl. Shall we get back to business? And if it's alright, shoo your noisy fiancée away from here."

"No, not yet!"

The white butler turned to the girl with annoyed eyes. "What now?"

"I came here with a gift for you, Ciel!"

Ciel motioned for Sebastian to give him a kerchief and Ciel used it to rub on his nose, which, for some reason, had just started to itch. He gave Elizabeth a look of confusion. "A gift, you say?"

Sebastian's eyes sharpened at that, his senses seeming to suddenly overwhelm him. "A gift?"

"Of course! No proper lady would ever come over to the house of her gentleman without one! Paula, bring her in!"

There was a meow. And then, the maidservant started to step in through the doorway. All eyes trained on a shy Paula, who brought in her arms a small ball of chocolate fur.

A kitten.

"Ta da!" said Elizabeth, proudly presenting him her gift as she took the kitten from Paula's arms. She brought it up near Ciel, who flinched away at the sight which he considered ghastly. "I brought a kitten to you as a gift!"

That uncomfortable itch in his throat started to rise, filling him with filth from the inside, slowly bubbling up to form a potential sneeze.

"A gift? _That?_ But I—"

The violent sneeze was finally let loose, shaking the table and the teacups on it.

Charles Grey disgustedly flinched away. "Bless you."

Sebastian's eyes widened, worried for his master despite his love for such whimsical young ladies. Ciel pointedly glanced at Sebastian, one hand placed over his nose in an attempt to block any more sneezes. The Earl Grey, despite his disgust, simply leaned into the scene, interested. And yet Elizabeth didn't seem to notice the rising tension.

"Yes! She is so wonderful, is she not? It brings back memories!"

"M… _memory?_ " To Ciel, Elizabeth was simply blabbering nonsense. "What are you talking abou—"

Ciel was interrupted by another sneeze.

Sebastian stepped forward and put a hand onto the female Midford's shoulder. "Please, my young lady, the master seems to be feeling quite…" He exchanged a meaningful glance with his master, who communicated to him with a glare. The glare contained one word. _Don't._ "…unwell for the moment," Sebastian finished. "Perhaps it would be better if—"

But Elizabeth would not be discouraged. She was determined. _No. Of course he remembers. Of course he does. He has to. He's just a little…out of his element today, that's all. It must be because he's too focused on Her Majesty's job for him. Of course. That must be it._

 _Of course he remembers. Of course he does._

She felt tears prick at the edge of her eyes.

 _He_ had _to._

"Yes!" She took the kitten and put it on Ciel's hands so that both of them could be touching its fur. Elizabeth's voice was slowly morphing from happily feminine to miserably desperate. "Yes, that memory! Ciel, don't you remember? That time when we picked up Cookie and we…"

"Stop it!" Ciel was horrified when he made contact with the cat, and so he pushed it away harshly like it was the plague spreading out to him in a wildfire. " _Get this filthy thing away from me!_ "

Sebastian stepped in to rescue the little kitten, now frightened and meowing, distressed at all the noise. Sebastian looked over at his lord, who had stood up and walked away to stare out into the rainy weather displayed by the life-sized window.

"Young master—"

Tears began forming in her eyes. Elizabeth put a fist to her heart, holding it close to her to keep it from shattering. "B-But…Ciel, I…" She stood up, and walked over to him. "What had I ever done? Why do you keep pushing me away? Why does everything I do upset you like this? Is something…wrong?"

She put a hand onto his shoulder, but he responded by slapping it away. Elizabeth was stricken with shock. She had never seen him do such thing before.

"You have no right to ask such things, Elizabeth."

 _Don't make me laugh. My whole life is destined to plummet down into hell._

 _And you are asking me if something is_ wrong _?_

"Wh…what?"

Ciel sneezed into a handkerchief, turned his back to her, faced the window, and said one word.

"Leave."

Tears now poured down her face on full force, and she started hiccupping like a little child. The alarmed Paula had her eyes widening. "My lady!"

"But…but…" Elizabeth was now a sobbing mess. "I—I only wanted to—"

" _Sebastian."_ The name itself bore the command. Sebastian put a hand to his chest, bowed at the direction of his master, and turned to Elizabeth. He started to draw her away, out of the room, away from him who she had considered her whole life to be her best friend.

No. That was wrong. This was not her best friend. Her best friend had been, and always will be, her Ciel. And this person in front of her, he was no such thing. This person in front of her…was Lord Phantomhive. Not Ciel.

And nothing less.

"Young lady, if you would forgive the liberty…"

She shook the butler's hands away from herself, refusing to be held back any longer. She'd been held back for far too long. And she was _tired_ of it. "No! Ciel, please, if we could just—"

The order of England's criminal underworld turned and looked at the Queen's secretary, speaking as if the sobbing lady beside him didn't exist at all.

"Lord Grey. You were saying?"

The words were cold. Sharp. And they stabbed her right in the heart.

"But, Ciel—"

" _Lord Grey?"_

That was the breaking point. Elizabeth finally burst into tears and then ran out of the drawing room, followed instinctively by a worried Paula. She ran, and kept on running, out and away from the horrors that had risen in her mind and was forcing her closed eyes to stop dreaming about fantasies and finally, _finally_ open herself to look at the truth.

 _Is that really you who returned home, my Ciel?_

~`.'~

Back at the drawing room, Charles Grey was just finishing off his second plate of desert, heartily licking off the last traces of icing from his silver fork.

"Yep. Behavioural problems."

~`.'~


	2. His Master, Elusive

Fred Abberline, officer of Scotland Yard, was frustrated.

He couldn't understand how such a thing could have been 'just an accident'. The mysterious deaths of the boys, plus that grisly train accident in London…he just had that uncomfortable inkling that the two, entirely different cases were connected, somehow. He didn't know _how_ , exactly …call it a detective's hunch, but he just felt that something was wrong.

But no one was listening to him. His fellow officers called him a delusional, pubescent old nut when he told them his theories. They told him that he shouldn't be making connections between two cases that are entirely unrelated—or so they said. Sir Randall even considered his assumptions as entirely stupid, dismissing him and mortifyingly calling him a belligerent fool in front of all of his comrades. How utterly humiliating!

Scotland Yard was still trying to solve the case about the mysterious deaths of the boys, but all they had for the moment was seemingly insignificant information—that they were all sons of aristocrats, ages twelve to seventeen, had gone to a private boarding school, whose autopsies declared that they died of a natural cause. Coincidence? No, the victims were far too many for it to be just a coincidence. In his line of work, crime didn't simply just spell coincidence.

And then there was the accident in London. The train accident had been an 'accident' enough—the brakes had failed, and the train fell, and there were the casualties, the things one would expect from such an unfortunate tragedy. Thankfully, though, despite the accident having been a bloodbath, there was only one person who died and one person very critically injured: the Duke of Hollingsworth and the Marquis of Midford, respectively.

But there was something about it that just didn't seem so 'accidental'. The duke's wife, the Duchess Hollingsworth, said that he had been on his way to report 'something' to the Queen—but just before he could do so, he died. Interestingly, the duke had a son, and his name is Nathaniel Hollingsworth; and he had just returned home after two semesters from the school called L'éveil de Castor. The doctors are now saying that Nathaniel's body was on a critical stage and he would die soon, just like all the other boys.

It couldn't be just a coincidence. Earlier in the month, Melville, Marquis Maxwell, had a son from the L'éveil as well, and, just before he could go report to the Queen about that same 'something', the Marquis had already died from an 'accident'.

The involvement of Marquis Midford was because, as the Leader of the British Knights, he had been sent by the Queen to protect the Duke of Hollingsworth from any sort of accident, as per Her Majesty's orders. The Queen had feared the Duke's accident, even beforehand. Abberline had to be impressed of Her Majesty's premonitions which had just proved to be entirely accurate.

It was as if…as if _someone_ was trying to keep a secret quiet by eliminating Marquis Maxwell and Duke Hollingsworth. Both nobles surely knew _something_ about this case; they were just killed in 'accidents' before they could reveal the secret.

But, what secret? What?

 _What?_

Fred Abberline was on the verge of despair, banging his head onto the table for the past few days now—and he had a feeling he would continue doing so for several more.

* * *

II. His Master, Elusive

* * *

The Earl of Phantomhive impassively stood in front of the window, his back turned to them, hands clasped together so tightly behind him with a strength that defied what such a small body could possibly have.

 _Composure._

Sebastian, on the other hand, could smell the very faint scent of his master's guilt wafting through the air. Though it disgusted him to the core that his young master was even capable of feeling such a thing, it also quite…amused him. To think that his cruel, oh, _so_ cruel young master was even capable of feeling guilt in the first place, just right after making his beloved Lady Elizabeth cry….

The butler couldn't help but put a fisted hand over his mouth to cover a fascinated smirk as he watched his master quietly stare out the window into the pouring rain, that faint whiff of guilt still present in the air. Ah, well. Perhaps his bratty young lord was not such a lordly brat after all.

Ciel, however, did not find this situation as amusing as Sebastian thought it was. He was forcing himself to remain calm, to continue hiding behind his cold mask for a little while longer, to keep his composure rigidly intact. He stared out in the rain, his unreadable gaze looking intently into the distance, all the while repeatedly telling himself that sending Elizabeth away was the necessary thing to do. He had to do it. He _had_ to, even if it consequently had to make her cry.

Keeping this mantra to console himself, he closed his eye, drew in a silent breath to calm himself down, and let it out in a soothing exhale.

Yes. Composure.

"Now then," he said, turning around to face his visitor once more. The look on his face was as apathetic as ever, acting as if nothing had happened at all. "I believe I've just asked you to—"

"Yep," Charles Grey cut off, smirking at him. "Behavioural problems."

That microscopic twitch in Ciel's forehead indicated his annoyance. "Please. Enough jesting. I'd really find it more convenient if we simply continue with our—"

"Ah, my lord, why so stiff?" mocked Grey. "You heartless earl, you. You just broke your fiancée's heart! Isn't the remorseful prince charming going to run after his sobbing young lady? 'Ah, milady, forgive me for stupid, idiotic faults!'"

"No."

"Oh, don't sound so very terribly nervous. I'll cheer for you!"

A vein throbbed in his forehead. How the annoying git interpreted Ciel's monosyllabic answer as 'terribly nervous' was beyond him.

"We've no time for such trivialities, Lord Grey. If you would please, I'd very much like to see progress in our discussion."

Grey sighed and rolled his eyes. "Well, alright. I guess every lady _would_ be frustrated in you. You're such a boring sod."

"Pardon?"

"Oh, nothing, earl dearest," he replied, smiling ever so sunnily. "I'm actually glad that you did shoo the loudmouth away—wouldn't be of any use to our discussion. Well, anyway. Let's get on to the case."

Ciel steepled his fingers and fired the bullet at once. "Young boys are proclaimed dead ten to fourteen days after having returned from L'éveil de Castor."

That carefree look tightened as graveness fell onto Grey. He leaned forward, that serene atmosphere suddenly gone.

"Yes. There are fourteen victims. So far. Weirdly, though, the results of the autopsies say that their deaths have been…natural enough, so it's really hard to conclude that someone is behind this. There were no traces of poisoning and suchlike. They simply died with a natural cause.

"But because it is just as unnatural that the boys all had to be youths, that they all belonged to the higher classes of society, that they had to come from the same academy, it couldn't be just some coincidence that they died from a 'natural cause'. Since all the victims have no other distinct similarity except from having come from the same private boarding school, then at least we have one lead: L'éveil de Castor, the expensive academy for the rich kids. Sounds suspicious enough, I'd say."

Ciel walked over to his seat and settled in from across his guest. Sebastian laid down a plate of chocolate and strawberry biscuits in front of him and poured him another cup of tea, but they were ignored by Ciel whose mind was already somewhere else.

"L'éveil de Castor," he murmured, slowly, as if testing how the sophisticated syllables could roll off his tongue. "'Awakening Castor'. What a peculiar name for an academy."

"It had an interesting enough history," agreed Grey. "The brother of the architect who designed it just died, so the living brother decided that he would honour his dead twin by naming it after Castor, one of the twins of Gemini. Ugh. What a sentimental dweeb."

Sebastian risked a curious peek to observe the reaction of his young master. Ciel was listening as intently as ever, letting no emotion whatsoever flash across the severity of his serious pretence as he processed the information.

"It was first built to be an asylum," Grey continued. "It is located at the top of a French Alps mountain; I think its name was Point Blanc. Then the asylum was bought by some chummy bloke named Ros…Roscoe? Yes, Sir Maverick Roscoe, and then later he converted it into an academy intended for young boys aged twelve to seventeen with…"

A smirk.

"…behavioural problems. Its goal was to turn rich, spoiled brats into disciplined youths. Parents who are disappointed with their child's insolent behaviour may choose to send them to L'éveil de Castor where they are trained to become true gentlemen. They are usually sons of rich aristocrats—in fact, even some boys of royal blood were sent there for a semester or two. The L'éveil had been doing this job excellently—at least according to the parents—for three hundred years already. It is unusual that such a trusted school would suddenly turn out to be the perpetrator."

"So," said Ciel. "She wants me to investigate a suspicious academy built as a training ground to turn unpleasant boys into gentlemen."

"Precisely." Grey gave Ciel a knowing wink. "The Queen herself said that _you_ should go try attending L'éveil de Castor yourself."

There was some silence. The earl couldn't help but be displeased with the news. _Not this again_. He'd just been over the case of Derrick Arden in Weston College and wasn't very willing to go through the tedious class and traditions of orthodox schooling yet again.

"Well," Ciel said, finally. "How…fetching."

He picked up a biscuit, bit into it, and thought for a while.

"But, surely, Lord Grey," he began once more, "even I cannot be capable of infiltrating the school personally. I am born as Ciel, Earl of Phantomhive. Our generation is infamous for policing England's underworld, not as petty children with behavioural problems. Certainly, the academy wouldn't be willing to take in someone like me."

Grey and Sebastian both could have snorted and/or rolled on the floor in hysterical laughter at that, hadn't they been gentlemen themselves.

Annoyed by the subtle reactions on their faces, Ciel crossed his arms over his chest and continued talking, ignoring them as much as possible. "And if the L'éveil is as strict as you say they are, they would be particularly suspicious if a Phantomhive had suddenly enrolled. In conclusion, then," he huffed, "I would not qualify to become a student in L'éveil de Castor. Perhaps a spy of some sort would suit better—"

"Well, the Queen is two steps ahead of you," interrupted Grey, still trying not to chuckle. "She thought you might say that your identity would be a problem. So, for the first time ever, she decided she would help you on this case."

"Her Majesty?" That made him blink in disbelief. He knew that her letter said she would help, but he never actually expected it to be true. "She would help?"

"Didn't I just say? She ordered me to create an identity for you that would be easily accepted by the L'éveil." He smirked, yet again, but this time, there was something different mixed in with it. It was as if he had a secret…a dirty secret he was soon going to reveal. He paused for a dramatic effect, holding the tension in the heavy atmosphere for a while longer.

Then he smiled, as angelically as ever.

"You would be enrolling as the son of the Viscount of Druitt."

A biscuit dropped. The shocked air drew a deadly silent blank for precisely three point five seconds. Then—

" _I beg your pardon?!"_

The smile on Grey's face grew ever wider. Ah, how he enjoyed making people's lives miserable. 'Twas his specialty. "You're very welcome."

"But—but—" For some reason, the earl's face had started to blush with the intensity of a thousand shades of red combined. "The Viscount of Druitt! I cannot…I can't _possibly_ …"

"Refusing the Queen's order now, are we?"

"No! Couldn't you change my identity to someone else? Was it really necessary that I had to be put in the disguise as the son of that— _that_ —"

"That what, young master?" prodded Sebastian, amusement in his voice.

"That lecherous oaf!" finished an outrageous Ciel. He turned to Grey. "Well, can't we?"

"No. I've already sent the documents over to the L'éveil to enrol you as Ciel Chambers, son of Aleistor, Viscount of Druitt. The academy would be picking you up after a fortnight from now." He grinned. Grey knew that forcing the young lord to get involved with the randy viscount would indeed be worthy of show. "It seems we have everything already settled. We can't just change it."

"But—but…the Viscount ofDruitt is—"

"Now, now, _Lord Phantomhive_ ," Grey drawled mockingly, putting in extra emphasis in the little boy's heavy title. "Isn't that such a rude behaviour? What is so wrong with the Viscount of Druitt, now? Did he do something terrible to you?"

"Well—" The red shade on Ciel's face grew even deeper. "Well I—"

"And so, before the academy picks you up, you have a fortnight more to study the individual cases of the dead boys, and then learn all about the life of being the son of the viscount. From now on, you should start practicing on your act on how to be Ciel Chambers, son of Aleistor. That way, your disguise would be even more effective. _And it is crucial that your disguise is effective_. The biography I sent over to the L'éveil must fit your character. I'll send the documents to you so can you can read over them. That way, while you investigate at L'éveil, no one would suspect you as Phantomhive—to them, you'll just be another spoiled brat to whip. Oh, wait." He paused, thinking like he forgot something. "You already are."

Sebastian pondered over this, ignoring that last jest. "You created the character of Ciel Chambers? Does that mean that whatever you've written on Ciel Chambers' biography, my young master would have to comply?"

"Exactly. To perfect his disguise completely, your young master has to live in the Druitt Estate for a considerable amount of time, know all there is to know about being a Chambers, forget about being a stiff, stuffy Phantomhive for a while." He looked at Ciel. "As we speak, Phipps is already there informing the Chambers of your arrival. Since L'éveil would surely check if the identities match, and we wouldn't want them to get nervous, it is vital that you do as I ask—and I ask you to play the part of Ciel Chambers well."

"Ciel Chambers? Live in the Druitt Estate? Be a part of the Chambers family? But the Viscount of Druitt doesn't even fit the figure of being a father in the first place!" Ciel couldn't even imagine that gawk with a permanent wife.

"Oh, don't be so sure," chided Grey. "He already has a family, you know."

"Lord Grey, I do not fancy your jokes."

"No, really. He has a wife, Irina Chambers, and a daughter, Lady Nice or Nicole or something." Grey took in Ciel and Sebastian's shocked reactions and sympathized with them. "I know, right?"

"But _still_ ," insisted Ciel, his natural childishness peeking through his dark clouds of adultness like a single ray of sunlight. Sebastian's wine red eyes widened a bit while he observed his master, who continued whining still. "You do not have the right to make decisions for me. I am the master of my own game. Forcing me to assume the position of Viscount Druitt's son—"

Grey moved so quickly that Ciel didn't even see him do it. But his face was now so close to Ciel and he was gripping at his wrist with an iron hold, pulling at him so that they'd only be inches apart. Sebastian, now alert, stood even more stiffly from the background as he watched the exchange between the two earls.

"—is something you should thank me for," Grey finished Ciel's previous sentence, his usually carefree face now dangerously ominous. "Your whining is annoying me. Really, now, are you in the place for complaining? This isn't like you at all, Watchdog. The only way you'd even be accepted into the academy and change identity with all the paperwork is through a royal warrant—that's why Her Majesty decided to intervene before all else. Mind you, the L'éveil de Castor is very strict with each student's particulars, so you can't just throw up a random disguise and be done with it like you did with the Weston case. They crucially check everything about every student, including great grandfathers and the brand of their mother's lipstick. The disguise has to be utterly convincing, and I chose Viscount Druitt because he is what he is—and you know what he is—and he is the most likely of all the available nobles to have a spoiled brat as a son. You can't even imagine all the trouble I had to go through just to finish all your disguised documents and get you enrolled. I'm helping you out here. So stop being such a spoiled little brat."

Ciel looked at his fellow earl for a moment or two, seriously considering his words. And then, he realized that he…may be right. Both of them, he and Charles Grey, were merely pawns in Queen Victoria's own game, moving across the chessboard in accordance to her commands. Both earls had the same lives of having to be burdened by their work as the Queen's allies in the darker world of England. Both go through the everyday trouble of having to dispel her worries.

Charles Earl Grey was just as much as a pawn in this chess game as Ciel Earl Phantomhive was.

The young lord yanked his wrist out of Grey's hold. Flicking away an imaginary speck of dust from his sleeve, Ciel crossed his legs, straightened his back, and turned his head in another direction to look at the rainy weather from outside, contemplatively.

He closed his eye.

"Very well. I shall assume the role Ciel Chambers until the investigation is over."

That dark, ominous look on Earl Grey's face suddenly vanished and got replaced by a sunny smile. He patted Ciel on the head, but the gesture itself seemed to shock the young lord—as if he found the sensation…unusual. Grey, however, was so used to giving away gestures to other people that even he wasn't able to notice such subtlety in Ciel's change of expression.

"You're a good dog, then, aren't you!" he commended. Then he stood up straight, adjusting the sword by his side at a more comfortable angle. "Well, finally, my work here is done. Sebastian, show me outside."

Sebastian bowed before him. "Of course. If you would please follow me this way…"

A marching of footsteps. Then the closing of the door. That left Ciel sitting alone in the silence, with the vicious thunderstorm still roaring its rage, pouring the sky's anger from the outside.

Ciel's gaze was a gone look as he observed the rain pour down its sorrowful torrents.

The thunderstorm…

 _The child sniffled, his eyes moist with tears, but he told himself to be brave and strong and looked up at his father, his big blue eyes sparkling against the dark. "…you really know?"_

 _Vincent smiled and pulled his son closer to him. "Of course I do. I'm your Father. I will always be here to protect you."_

Ciel unconsciously started to bring a hand up to hover over his face and then slowly on to his head, right where Grey had patted him.

 _Vincent patted his head with a loving hand, which seemed to surprise the young toddler._

" _Now, tell me. What is wrong?"_

" _I…I…" The scared little kid's voice was trembling, and Vincent could feel it from the way the child's hand shook in his own. He clutched his father's hand more tightly than ever, as if it was the only thing holding him onto dear life. "Father, I—"_

Stop.

Ciel stopped himself before the memory could go any further. He fisted his hand, and found it ridiculous that he was even reminiscing of such insignificant things. He shook his head. He had no use of the past—only the present and the future.

And who had he been kidding? That he was just a pawn in Queen Victoria's game?

He let a small chuckle escape from his lips. It was the laugh of a mastermind, the laugh of a wicked nobleman, the laugh of a villain—a disturbing sound to be heard in the midst of the rain.

Really.

He owned the entire chessboard. Her Majesty simply thought it royal to pretend she did.

Or perhaps…

… _it was just the laugh of a lost child, desperate to move on._

~`.'~

"Butler," Grey called out. Sebastian stopped walking and looked at the lord behind him.

"Sir?"

Grey held his gaze. "Be sure to protect the earl while he's in this particular case."

Sebastian blinked. Just once. He was quick to overcome his surprise, though, as he had already put a hand to his chest and bowed respectfully before the noble in front of him. "My lord, you fascinate me. You do care about him."

"I don't. The Queen does." Grey strutted forward with a swagger in his steps, twirling a hand in the air to indicate his indifference. "She even hesitated from sending him on this particular mission, and that's saying something. L'éveil de Castor is a dangerous place. All the boys who returned home from the previous semester died of the same fatal illness days after their homecoming. That's a pattern with no fail. Her Majesty fears that when Phantomhive returns from this mission, he will be no different."

Sebastian just couldn't help but be surprised, as if all over again. He was a bit…sceptical. Well, nevertheless, who wouldn't be? After all the missions she had sent his young master to…

"So Her Majesty _does_ care about my young master's safety."

Grey scoffed at that. "Without a ready Phantomhive in line, she wouldn't have another capable dog to play fetch with. Best you tell the earl that he start apologizing to his fiancée so they can make a new one already."

Sebastian coughed.

"Sorry," smirked Grey. "Couldn't help it."

"Of course, my lord." Sebastian smiled, although it was a struggle, because he was still trying to get over the earl's inappropriate words. "Then please send Her Majesty my and my lord's gratitude for her concern. We shall take very good care. Trust that I will fulfil my duty as a butler."

A carefree smile spread over Grey's handsome face. "I'll say. It seems strange to me that someone could even exist who is so dedicated to protecting his master that he'll surpass death just so he could continue doing so." The smile turned into a dark scowl as Grey remembered the events in the Phantomhive Manor involving Georg von Siemens—he was sure he'd already killed the bloody butler there.

Grey's scowl narrowed to focus it on Sebastian.

"Beastly inhuman."

"Oh, no," chuckled Sebastian, thoroughly amused of the abhorrence directed at him. "You do flatter me with your words, but I am simply…"

He bowed his head in narcissistic humility.

"…one hell of a butler."

~`.'~

Ciel's fingers held onto the letter in his hand, his gaze meandering through the fancy, cursive words in utter concentration.

 _My dear, cute little boy,_

 _For the past days, I have been grieving for my cousin, Duke Clemens. He is really miserable when you reported that his son, Derrick Arden, is dead. Though on the other hand I am grateful for your assistance on finding his body, I cannot help but feel the melancholy. And now, even worse, there is the spreading news that boys of ages twelve to seventeen from the aristocratic families are dying of some strange illness as well. It worries me. I would be very sorrowful indeed for the members of my court when their sons shall be afflicted of it as well._

 _I have spent the past days in worry. Scotland Yard is not yielding any useful information. I would hate to prolong the case for them, and so I had no choice but to turn to you._

 _I do not wish to bother you with this, but will you investigate L'éveil de Castor, the private school where all the victims had come from? I already had Charles Grey prepare your documents for you, so that you wouldn't trouble yourself anymore from the tedious preparations of your enrolment. This is because I wish for you to concentrate solely in the case. I believe that the young gentlemen of this country, naughty or not, have the right to be protected from any maliciousness. I feel the fright as the mother of our country, for my sons in England. I wish for this strange illness to stop, and I trust that you will be the one to fulfil it._

 _Oh, and also, I beg of you one more thing._

 _Take care, my son._

 _~Victoria_

Ciel stared several seconds more at the letter's last sentence.

Son. She called him son. 'My son.'

 _A mother who sends her son to places with nothing but 'murder' written all over it?_

Ciel scoffed and let the letter slide over the mahogany table. He was nobody else's son.

More like a dog.

The door suddenly opened to interrupt his thoughts and the graceful tapping of footsteps could be heard entering. Without even looking at who it was, Ciel stood up, walked to the window, clasped his hands behind him, and issued his order.

"Sebastian. I want a full report on all the fourteen boys. Inquire friends, family. Consult even Scotland Yard's shoddy archive if you have to. I want you to know all about each of them, down to the very last detail. We shall also leave for the Undertaker and try to obtain—"

Then Ciel stopped, realizing what he'd just said.

 _Well. Of course._

He clenched his fists so tightly that they turned white.

 _How could he have forgotten?_

With all that had happened in the Campania, at the Weston College, all his human experiments and bizarre dolls, the secrets he hold and the times he had almost killed him and Sebastian, the Undertaker was now a long gone ally from the past.

"Ah…" The butler's silken baritone gently pulled him out of his thoughts. "…would that be all, master?"

Ciel looked at Sebastian and didn't bother to go back and retrace his words. They didn't have the time to talk about the Undertaker with their hands full of a new case. They shall have to deal with the Undertaker and his shenanigans at a later time.

"Yes…of course." But the young noble thought that his wavering resolve washed away the strength of his tone, so he cleared his throat, and said it again. "Yes, that would be all I would need you to do. Understood?"

The butler bowed before him with a smile, understanding his master's words all too well. Even he would rather not run into the Undertaker again.

Ciel nodded. "Good."

The young boy turned and looked through the grey rain peppering the air, and he saw Charles Grey in his white clothes, running through the storm on the back of his royal horse.

"I wonder what made this case so special," he remarked, watching the white, ghostly figure speed away from the manor. "Her Majesty taking the liberty to help. Lord Grey taking the time to fix my identity for me. The Crown intervening with my work. That had never happened before."

"Agreed, my lord," said Sebastian. "Before he left, Lord Grey had even told me that you shall have to take special care in handling this case. I find it most unusual indeed."

"Still." Ciel gritted his teeth. "Blast that Grey. Taking action before I do…that is most unacceptable."

"Well, there is no help for it, my lord." The butler glided over the floor, and the sound of clinking chinaware could be heard as he started gathering the cups and saucers from the table back onto his teacart. "You have already been enrolled as Ciel Chambers and your full biography had already been sent to the L'éveil de Castor." Then he stole a glance over at his master. "But if you really wish for me to reenrol you in another disguise…"

"No. I will deal with it." Ciel put two fingers onto his forehead in an attempt to calm down a rising frustration. "The Queen wouldn't be pleased if she found out that I rejected her help. I have no choice in this. I shall be…" It took him all his strength to continue talking. "…the son of the Viscount of Druitt until the case ends."

"Wagging your tail at every little biscuit Her Majesty offers you, eh, my lord?" Sebastian chuckled as he put the last of the saucers back onto his teacart with long, gloved fingers, that last _clink_ sounding a bit louder in the air than it should have. "You really are a dog, then—and a royal breed at that."

A dark look sharply descended upon Ciel's blue eyes and challenged the butler to repeat. "Sorry?"

A smile spread over Sebastian's face, proud that his cute little young master was starting to improve on how to look threatening. "Ah, nothing, my sincerest apologies, my lord."

 _Sincerest apologies?_ Ciel rolled an eye at that. "Yes, well, at any rate. Spend the rest of the day packing my things. As soon as tomorrow, we leave for the Druitt Estate." He started to walk away from the window and to the door. "As for me…perhaps since there is nothing to do but wait until you are done with the reports, I shall have to deal with paperwork."

Ciel walked past Sebastian's watching eye, the soles of his high heeled shoes tapping portentously over the floor, and continued doing so until his hand touched the door latch—until the butler called out to him.

"Young master."

His hand tightened around the metal latch, the blue ring on his finger glinting against the pale light from outside.

"What?"

"I heard convulsive sobbing from behind the door of the room where Lady Elizabeth is assigned."

Mortification blossomed red on Ciel's face. Not wanting to hear another word of it, he immediately opened the door, stepped outside, and closed it, marching down the halls with his head stubbornly held up high, forcing himself to forget it.

But Sebastian had followed him to pester his unfortunate soul some more. "Is the young master not going to apologize to the Lady Elizabeth?"

He refused to look at his butler. "Perhaps another time. I'm busy."

"It is best that you resolve this matter immediately, my lord," insisted Sebastian. "I assure you, the paperwork can wait. But the poor, fragile Lady Elizabeth whose pure heart had been broken by the cruelty of my young master…"

Those words obtained their desired effect. For a moment, Ciel paused, seeming to hesitate to take one more step forward. And then there it was again—the faint whiff of guilt in the air. But Ciel was swift to overcome it, as he shook his head and stubbornly walked forward again.

"I still have work to do. I have no time for such pointless stupidities."

"Oh?" Sebastian chuckled at the little figure of the proud, arrogant boy who refused to admit his faults to a lady he just made cry. The heartlessness never ceased to amuse the demon. "Then shall I go tell Lady Elizabeth that you hold your work more valuable because she is one such 'pointless stupidity'?"

Sebastian couldn't see it, but Ciel could feel his face getting hotter. He walked even faster, clenched his fists even tighter, and the voice that came out of his lips seemed a tad out of tune compared to the usual.

"I said no such thing, _idiot_."

"But you have implied it," smiled Sebastian. "So shall I go tell Lady Elizabeth that she is one such 'pointless stupidity'?"

"No!"

"Oh, but young master, you _have_ implied that she is one such 'pointless stupidity', haven't you?"

" _I most certainly have not!"_

"Good heavens, my lord." Sebastian was simply amused of the young lord, whose reddening face was such a priceless rarity. "Aren't you _quite_ the handsome little blusher—"

"Just shut up and bring me a parfait!"

Ciel slammed the door of his study onto his butler's face.

Three seconds of silence prevailed in the air, with the smile of the butler frozen on his face.

Then the smile turned into a grimace.

Very well, then. If his young master was going to be a brat to the core, then Sebastian might as well be the butler that he is.

He tugged onto his gloves, and pushed the doors open.

~`.'~

Five minutes later, Ciel was standing in front of her door, a hesitant fist hovering over the mahogany wood to knock the fateful knocks. The sobbing from the inside was racking his senses, though, and was preventing him from doing anything decent. Her sniffles were a terrible sound to his ears and it made his stomach twist in utter shame…remorse…guilt? Why, this was simply outrageous! He had never felt anything like this before, and _he_ had faced more of life's terrible things than what was meant for a thirteen-year-old. It was an unusual feeling that he had to feel this way just because of a lady: his heart was pounding, the blood was rushing to his face, he felt a bit dizzy, and he was a touch away from throwing up.

He couldn't understand how the hell he let himself get dragged into this.

"No," he murmured, finally, and turned away from the door and started to go off in a huff. "I can't. Not today—"

"Young master, please." Sebastian grabbed his master by the shoulders before he could go any further. Ciel prodded him to let him go, but the butler was persistently stern when he said, "We have talked about this. You must apologize to the Lady Elizabeth as soon as it is possible if you do not want Marchioness Midford to come over to the manor herself. You and I know that her coming over here would be something to dread."

Ciel rolled his eye. "How far you have fallen. Are you telling me that a demon as mighty as you is actually _scared_ of facing ladies who hold swords?"

Sebastian sighed exasperatedly. How far he had fallen, indeed—a mighty demon to be feared and worshipped, urging a bratty child to say sorry to his fiancée already.

"Actually, young master, perhaps _you_ are telling me that the mighty Earl of Phantomhive is scared of facing ladies who hold swords."

"I'm not." Ciel slapped Sebastian's hand away and he continued walking forward. "I just couldn't face her today."

"As you wish, then, young master. If the young lord insists to keep Lady Elizabeth sobbing on her pillow the entire day and perhaps even the night because he has broken her fragile little heart, then let us please proceed to your study."

And so, master and servant went on their way down the quiet hallway, Elizabeth's sobs still faintly heard along the walls, echoing in the vast chamber.

And it echoed.

And echoed.

And echoed some more.

Resist.

But he _couldn't_.

…Ciel, his face a maddening red, suddenly turned around in his heel and walked back again.

" _Fine!_ I'll do it! _"_

A victorious Sebastian smirked after his master.

"Of course, my lord."

~`.'~

Elizabeth was in her room, sobbing. The sobs were pitiful, traced with hiccups and sniffles, and every time she forced herself to quieten already and calm down, the tears would only worsen, bubbling up to the point that she couldn't hold it down anymore, and then she would cry all over again. She had gathered all the pillows around her, pulling the thick quilts closer to her in a tighter embrace. Her shoulders were racking, her eyes were red, her face a mess, the strands of her hair limp and lifeless, and they stuck to her wet face which, for once, didn't make her feel the tiniest bit upset that she had to look like such a disaster.

Darkness crawled up to her bed with the long fingers of the shadows, the room drenched entirely in a miserable mood. It was morning, yes, but the raging torrent from the outside blocked out all traces of the sun and made the air a pale, cold grey. It was as if the weather felt exactly how she felt. It was a comforting thought that would cross her mind every now and then when she just sat there and thought of nothing but listen to the pattering of the rain.

Then again, no matter how much she wanted to push it all away and forget it, she simply couldn't take it off of her mind. When Ciel had rejected her and slapped her away, like she was garbage to be thrown, like she was some sort of thing he was so disgusted to look at…

" _Stop it! Get this filthy thing away from me!"_

Elizabeth shut her eyes close so tightly to the point that she fervently wished that everything that had happened this morning would just go away, so that everything would be back to normal again. She wished she was just blind so that her eyes wouldn't have to unwantedly replay that scene over and over inside her head. She was being killed with every passing second and her heart felt like it was being stabbed by a thousand lances. With her small and shaking figure, her knees drawn up to her chin, her arms wrapped around herself, her eyes wet and reflecting the kind of light that was slowly meeting the spectrum of darkness and lifelessness…

She felt like nothing but a wilted flower.

She had done nothing wrong, had she? She had a selfless heart, and all she had ever wished for was his happiness. She was a pure, chaste, immaculate white lily, floating over the water as beautifully as a lady. Ciel, however, was a rose growing among thorns, and no matter what the water lily would do, it would never be able to get near him. A white lily would not grow in the harsh conditions where the rose could. A white lily could never hope to live in a place without water.

Today, Elizabeth had tried to crawl out of the pond—and as a result, she was drained to the point of lifelessness.

It was an impossible task. She had done everything, but still, up until now, nothing had succeeded. For some reason, she and Ciel had been doing nothing but going around in endless circles, going everywhere but getting nowhere. Repeatedly, she'd been chasing him, but he was just too far away, too out of reach. That was practically the story of her entire life. He meant the whole world to her. She loved him with all her heart.

She _loved_ him.

And it frightened her.

Because…what if…

…what if all she'd been chasing after, all along, is something that doesn't even exist anymore? What if…

What if the Ciel she knew now is…is…is not actually—

 _Knock, knock, knock._

Elizabeth, shocked, looked up from her melancholy, and stared at the door. Realizing who it might be, the lady simply turned back to her own gloominess, and said, "Paula, please, I told you not to—"

"Lizzy," said the familiar voice. It was firm, but gentle. "It's me."

The girl bit her lip upon knowing who it was. She was silent.

"Are you decent?" asked the voice further. But still, Elizabeth chose it best not to reply, and simply buried herself even deeper into her pillows.

From the other side of the door, Ciel was a bit struck by how Elizabeth hadn't even bothered to talk. That had never happened before.

"Alright, my lady. I'm entering."

And Ciel did. He found her buried in a nest of quilts and pillows, her back turned to him; but he could see her shoulders jerking and convulsing with every hiccup and sniffle. He walked carefully, as if he had just stepped into a fragile room where one wrong act might shatter everything. But as he did, he stepped onto a stuffed bunny toy with large ears and a patch over one eye. He bent down to pick it up. Seeing it made him smile, even for just a bit. Elizabeth still kept this stuffed toy, didn't she?

He put it beside the bedside table before sitting onto the bed where Elizabeth was.

And since it was not his fashion to beat around the bush, from there, he went straight to the point.

"I am sorry, Lizzy," he said, immediately. "My actions this morning have been simply inexcusable. I had been nothing but a fool. So, please." He reached out to her, touched her warm hand, and kept it in his cold ones. Elizabeth finally lifted her eyes from her grief, sparkling green eyes meeting a sincere blue.

The earl summoned his courage to say it. "Forgive me."

Elizabeth bit her lip, and looked at Ciel, holding his gaze with her emotions swirling madly from the inside.

"C…C…Ciel…I..."

And then, right at that moment, everything spilled—from her eyes, down her face, and eventually, into Ciel's clothes. She lunged at him, sobbing a new round of fresh tears, burying herself into his chest as she did so.

" _Ciel!_ I—I—I—I never th-thought—th-that y-you w-w-w-wouldn't—e-ever c-come to—I really—I was r-r-r- _really_ …"

Her words became more incoherent as her sobs worsened, and Elizabeth could think of doing nothing else but pull herself closer to Ciel, her shoulders being racked with hiccups and tears. The boy found himself in a rather awkward situation, as he wasn't really very good at handling crying girls, but he told himself that he should restrain himself from pushing her away this time. Her heart was already broken, and doing so would only be like throwing the remnants to the floor and stepping on them.

He slowly let his hand land onto her head so he could stroke her hair. He started doing so very awkwardly, but eventually he was able to do it. It was the only thing he probably knew about giving comfort to other people. Elizabeth, motivated by his soothing touch, simply cried even further.

"I…I am sorry too, Ciel! It's just that…I hadn't cried since I s-saw Father in that accident, and I am s-s-simply overcome today when everything had piled up and I just do not know what to…to…" She wasn't able to finish, because she sobbed once more.

As held her close to him and watched her cry into his chest, he felt rather…peculiar, after hearing those words. After all, he, Ciel, Earl Phantomhive, was the Queen's Watchdog, whose sole job was to assassinate cheaters, murder criminals, and heartlessly chase after felons for all his life, and he had never felt a single trickle of guilt for all he'd done—he was the villain who pointed guns on people's heads, set fire on the innocents' lives, trampled upon the lowly and treated them as mere chess pieces for his selfish victory, and nothing more. His very name struck fear onto his enemies' hearts, for with it he carried the curse which was his family's legacy.

And, to think that Elizabeth, who hadn't even done anything wrong, who had only wanted him to be happy, apologizing to someone like _him_ …

"…Lizzy," he said, firmly. "You shouldn't be apologizing for anything. I'm sorry for being cruel to you earlier. But I simply…I simply cannot accept the kitten as the gift. I do not have the time to keep it. I hope you…understand."

"No. It's…it's okay." Lizzy pulled herself away, and laughed tearfully as she started to wipe away the last tears from her eyes with the heel of her hand. "It was my mistake for thinking that you will like her. I just thought that you will remember that time when we picked up that kitten back when we were younger…" Elizabeth looked into Ciel's eyes. "You do remember it, right?"

Ciel blinked for a moment, wondering what on Earth she was talking about. He had no memories of such thing—

 _And then it hit him._

"Ah. Right. Right. Of course," he said, barely able to cough up the words from the back of his throat. "Of course, I…remember it well."

Elizabeth stared at Ciel, who looked back at her with _that_ expression that she knew all too well. Ciel probably thought that he could hide it from her, because, like everyone else, he was one of those people who thought that she was too naïve and too innocent to ever see and understand. But she knew it, she knew what that expression was, because she wore it all the time.

 _You are not lying, Ciel…are you?_

"Well, Ciel!" said Elizabeth, already cheering up—or, rather, forcing herself to. "Wherever you are happy, I shall be happy for you! It is really fine, don't worry about it! Now, let us just forget about everything that had happened this morning, okay?" She put her hands onto his, and looked up into his eye. "I shall bring you a better gift the next time I shall go here, and I will make sure that it would make you happy. Is that fine?"

"You..." Ciel stared into Elizabeth's eyes, finding it hard to believe that a person with such a pure heart could ever even exist. "Lizzy…you don't…you don't have to go through all the trouble…"

"Ah, that is no trouble at all!" insisted the girl. "I would be very happy to look for another gift to give you! But what is important is that we are not fighting anymore, yes? You do not…hate me anymore, right?"

"I never hated you. Not once."

Lizzy's face brightened like the sun. "Ciel, I am so glad! We are together again, forgiving each other without hesitation! I really love it!" She giggled, so happily, that Ciel simply couldn't help but lift his lips up in a faint smile at the sight of her like that. It was a true wonder how she could be so happy because of the littlest things.

"I already imagine the kind of parents we would be to our children, teaching them kindness, forgiveness, and happiness," she continued, sighing as if she were in a dream. "I wonder what kind of family we will have someday! I certainly hope that it will be a family full of love! We will sing Twinkle Twinkle, and I will cradle our daughter in my arms, and you will be watching her from behind me, singing along the lyrics! How very nostalgic, indeed!" She clapped her hands in delight, like a child with no other care in the world, and turned from her fantasies to look at her fiancé. "What do you say, Ciel? I think you will make a very adorable father!"

"Ah…I…" Ciel's face reddened. On top of understanding only half of the words she just said, he also found it a tad awkward that they had to make this conversation in Elizabeth's room. "Well…indeed, I think you will make a lovely mother."

And then that's when Ciel suddenly sneezed.

It shattered Elizabeth's fantasies. She looked at Ciel with an unreadable expression overshadowing her eyes as she watched Ciel's nose redden as if from an allergy. Or maybe it was not an allergy. Perhaps…perhaps it was just the cold?

"Ciel?" inquired Elizabeth, and she reached out a hand to touch his and squeeze his fingers. "Are you alright?"

"It's just the cold, Elizabeth, nothing more," he said, his voice a bit dulled by his runny nose. "Anyway, I shall be going now, my lady. I still have work to do."

"W…work? Already?" Elizabeth's voice sounded broken, and she watched as Ciel started to gather himself and get up from her bed. Already, she could feel the emotions starting to get stirred up and swirl inside of her all over again. Would this how her family with Ciel be like? She and their children would only always be left at him, while the father always had to go out and away, committing himself to nothing else but his job? "But Ciel…why? I just came here!"

Ciel stood from the bed, took the lady's hand, and bowed before her, just as Sebastian had instructed that all gentlemen must do.

"I have to. As long as I bear the Phantomhive name, this is my duty. My first priority."

With that final note, he let go of her hand, and he started to walk away. But just before his hand started to push open the door…

"…Ciel?"

He turned his head to look at her sideways. "Yes, what is it?"

"I…I just wanted to ask you," she began. "Are you…really…"

The very nature of her question made Ciel stiffen. But then he told himself to calm down and get it together. It's probably nothing, he assured himself. Probably nothing at all.

"Am I really what?" he prodded, cautiously, carefully, already building up his walls in case everything went downhill.

But then Elizabeth decided that she shouldn't. She shouldn't question it. She shouldn't question the fact that he was Ciel. He was Ciel Phantomhive, the boy she loved, and the man she was going to marry. She had to banish her doubts. She just had to believe in it, nothing more. Of _course_ he was Ciel—of course he was. She just had to keep lying to herself to keep her sanity intact.

It was, after all, easier to believe in a lie than to have to bear with the truth.

"Well, I just wanted to ask," she said, finally, a smile spreading over her lovely face. "When will you be coming back?"

Ciel blinked at her for several times. He had been expecting quite a heavier question than that. But perhaps he had to be relieved, and decided that he should have nothing to fear after all.

He smiled. "Don't worry, Elizabeth. I shall return as soon as the case is finished."

"Oh," she replied. She looked at him, still with a smile on her face. "Well. I wish you good luck. Take care, okay?"

A small smile reached Ciel's eyes and he nodded. "Thank you. I will."

And then the door closed, blocking the light from outside to cloak Elizabeth in the darkness.

~`.'~


	3. His Master, Ciel Chambers

"So. A new student?"

"Yes, sir." The stiff woman in front of him stood as rigidly as a rock. "His name is Ciel Chambers. Thirteen years old. The son of Aleistor Chambers, the Viscount of Druitt. He is to enter the establishment two weeks from now."

The man drummed his fingers onto the table. "And what kind of a boy do we have this time? Someone nasty? Mischievous? A delinquent? Perhaps a brat who skips classes in his previous school?"

"Ah…no, sir. Actually, quite the opposite. This boy, according to his biography…" The woman glanced down at her records. "…is kind, polite, and very well-mannered. However, he does have a mild problem in separating reality from fantasy. It says here that he has fondness for…er, unicorns, quite a bit."

The man on the desk contemplated this for a moment. Then he sighed. "We can't take any new student now. We aren't done with that Russell boy yet. A new friend might make him determined to escape here. Just like what happened with that Maxwell and Hollingsworth boy. I wouldn't want to kill another brat because of that—we're going to lose specimens."

The woman was silent. She was not in the place to give her opinions in a situation like this.

"Ah. Very well, then." The man was finally able to make the decision. "Send spies to investigate what kind of boy this Chambers really is. As you are aware, we shall always be very careful in accepting new students. For all we know, that blasted Queen Victoria might only be trying to send a spy here herself." Then he looked at the woman with a smirk on his rugged face. "Prepare everything to suit Ciel Chambers. We shall give this new student…the _fullest_ hospitality of L'éveil de Castor."

The woman understood the underlying message. She put a hand to her chest, and bowed before him obediently.

"Yes, Master Reynard."

* * *

III. His Master, Ciel Chambers

* * *

Ciel closed the door with a relieved sigh. Well. He was glad that he was over it already—and so easily at that. He shouldn't be so surprised, though. Elizabeth was a forgiving person and she would never have the capacity to bear a grudge. She was too kind.

Too kind for him to ever deserve.

But at least, Sebastian wouldn't pester him anymore with his persistent mockery, and thoughts of Elizabeth would stop plaguing his mind. Only Elizabeth had the power of awakening his supposedly non-existent conscience, which was quite the bothersome nuisance whenever it did come alive. Having apologized to her had somehow lifted a weight off of his shoulders, so he was glad for that. It was a bit relieving for his part, yes, but, unfortunately, that relief was short-lived…

Because the burden was simply replaced by something else entirely heavier.

Ciel let his gaze linger into distant space as his mind recalled those cautious words, that wavering voice, those jade green eyes, and that…that hesitant smile.

" _I…I just wanted to ask you. Are you…really…"_

He let a hand rest onto the patch on his eye. It was a patch that covered a curse, a death…a lie.

"Who am I, you ask?"

He closed his eye. He squared his shoulders and marched down the hall, proceeding back to his study—his resolve fixed and determination ablaze, past forgotten and focused forward, not once looking back.

 _I am Ciel Phantomhive._

It was a prime example of a lie that had long since become the truth.

~`.'~

The apron of a nervous Mey-Rin was splashed with red wine. The teary-eyed Finny was littered with grass and mud. Bard's guilty face was covered with black soot. They stood before the butler, and a nervous, heavy silence dominated the air.

"Hello," greeted Snake. Or not. "Says Wilde."

Sebastian stared at the servants with a miserable face. "When are you _ever_ going to learn…" he began, shaking his head with the misery of a widow. "…how to do your jobs as _neatly_ as possible?"

The last of the bricks from the kitchen wall (or absence thereof) finally fell and hit the ground—which was littered with rocky debris, burnt remnants of tree trunks, and smoky bullets with spilled red wine.

Or maybe that was actually blood.

"Waaah!" Finny and Mey-Rin both finally burst into tears as Bard ashamedly scratched the back of his neck. Snake was mumbling something about giving Wilde a snack later. "We're very sorry, Sebastian! We're very very sorry! Please forgive us! _Waaaaaaaah!_ You're not going to ever forgive us, are you? Waaaaah! _"_

The peeved Sebastian simply couldn't help but put an exasperated hand over his reddening forehead as the two continued blubbering on about intruders and axes and cannons and bears— _bears?_ —and flamethrowers and bunnies.

"Calm _down_ , you two. Stop acting like foolish children and behave more like adults."

Tanaka decided that he should probably agree to that. "Ho!"

"Yes, he's right. Says Dan."

"Ah, well, no matter," declared Sebastian, moving on to it, putting his hands together and coming upon a command, ignoring the tears of the maid and the gardener. "We shall have to deal with this mess now. Finny, Bard, clean this up. Snake, I'll have you watch over these children if you wouldn't mind babysitting them for me."

Snake's voice turned feminine as he answered, "Oh, yes, I wouldn't mind. Says Emily."

" _What?!_ " protested a deeply insulted Bard. _Snake_ , babysitting _him?_ He outrageously pointed an accusing finger over at Snake. "But _he_ —!"

—was ignored. Sebastian turned to the maid. "And you, Mey-Rin. Come with me."

Mey-Rin's face immediately flushed red at that. "Wh-wh-what? M-me?" _This doesn't make any sense!_ she freaked, panicking from the inside while butterflies fluttered madly in her stomach. _Why would Sebastian want ME to come with him? Why wouldn't he want me to help with the cleaning instead? Oh no, with eyes looking at me like that, that could only mean one thing! This can't be possible, but is he going to finally…finally—_

"We are going to prepare the young master's luggage," he said, interrupting her thoughts. "The young master will be leaving tomorrow and will be gone for the next few weeks, so we shall have to finish packing his needs as soon as possible."

Realization dawned upon Mey-Rin. Then, mortified of her lecherousness, she reddened intensely, saying, "Oh, r-right! Of course that's what you mean…"

"And Tanaka." Sebastian's eyes landed onto the old man sipping his classic Japanese green tea. The butler sighed. Then he started to walk away with Mey-Rin trudging clumsily from behind him, the maid still apparently rattled. "I suppose you should simply remain as you are."

The old steward agreed with a hearty response. "Ho!"

Sebastian and Mey-Rin proceeded to their young master's room.

"You shall finish packing before the day ends," said Sebastian. "You are to gather the young master's clothing worthy of a fortnight. I've already laid out the suitcases for you." The butler began to walk away and leave Mey-Rin to the job.

"Seba…Sebastian! M-me?" There was a slight trace of disappointment in her voice. She really thought that the both of them would be working together alone—for once. "B-But I thought we…"

Sebastian turned his head in that handsome angle and gave Mey-Rin a smiling look. "Yes?"

Mey-Rin blushed and flusteredly threw her gaze to the ground. "I…e-er…never mind!"

Sebastian smiled, then walked out of the room, and closed the door. He flipped out his pocket watch, and then, seeing the time, he mumbled to himself, "Ah. It's almost time for my young master's afternoon tea. But first…"

The young lady. Had the young master succeeded in his little act of apologizing to his lovely betrothed? Well, whatever the result had been, he should at least serve their lovely guest with elevenses. It was simply appropriate, since the young master had greeted the lady's visit with such a display of attitude—inappropriate of true, first-class Phantomhive hospitality. And so, with this in mind, Sebastian prepared a light, sweet meal for the Lady Elizabeth with freshly baked bagels and clotted cream, with very high-quality Assam milk tea to drink.

He pushed his teacart gracefully, walking along the corridor with steady strides, the sound of the rotating wheels from under the cart smooth and gentle. And as he turned to the right of the hallway…

Sebastian saw his young master walking away from Elizabeth's room, his back firm and straight, his head held up high, and his strides steadily decisive, ready to trample over those who dared get into his way, not once even looking back.

The demon smiled at his master.

First-class, indeed.

After having served Elizabeth her tea, (he found that his master had indeed been successful; the lady was back to her usual bubbliness now) Sebastian went to Paula and informed her that the lady was already fine—Paula very gratefully bowed before the butler and scuttled over to Elizabeth's room to immediately check on her mistress. Sebastian next served his master's afternoon tea. Upon entering his study room, he was met with the usual: a dull professional atmosphere of documents being read and papers being signed.

"Good afternoon, young master," greeted the happy butler, pouring him a cup of Ceylon tea.

Ciel continued to read the document in his hands, not paying Sebastian any mind. "Hm."

"Your day has been quite busy, hasn't it?" Sebastian remarked conversationally.

"Hm."

"And Mey-Rin is almost finished in packing your luggage." Sebastian placed the saucer of tea in front of the young lord.

"Hm."

"Tomorrow, first thing, we shall have to leave for the Druitt Estate."

Ciel signed the document. "Hm."

The butler looked at his master. Then he smiled. "This afternoon tea will be composed either of a blueberry meringue pie, chocolate shortcakes, or custard cream puffs. Which one would like to have?"

The announcement of the sweets was what finally made Ciel look up. Even for just a bit. But then he returned his eyes to the documents, as neutral as ever. "The chocolate one."

"Very good, young master." Sebastian handed him a plate. Ciel put down the papers in his hand for the first time in that hour, and put a slice into his mouth.

"Well?" asked Sebastian. "Is it to your liking, my lord?"

"Calm down, it's fair to middling." Ciel dismissed Sebastian with a wave of his fingers. "Now go and attend to the packing."

Satisfied for making his master satisfied, Sebastian put a hand to his chest and bowed before his master. "Yes, my lord."

The rest of the day went on as normally as every other day. As expected of the maid, she had made a total mess of packing his young master's clothing— _honestly_ , can any servant of this manor besides himself manage to do something that didn't end up in a catastrophe?—but Sebastian had quickly dismissed Mey-Rin and did the work himself. After all, his master had just ordered him to attend to the packing. After that, he went to check over Finny and Bard, only to find the kitchen still in that mess. Snake was entertaining the two infantile adults with his snake performances and Finny and Bard were both clapping like children at the performance. It was apparently the footman's interpretation of 'babysitting'.

Tanaka could only sip his tea in amusement. "Ho!"

Sebastian all but practically shooed them out of there so he could deal with the destroyed kitchen himself. The whole place was sparkling within the minute, and Finny and Bard and Snake could only stare after the butler in amazement with the jaws trapped onto the ground.

The grey, rainy morning sky eventually calmed down as late afternoon descended, which was quick to be painted black by the night. Hours went quickly by until Sebastian had to go to his master's room for his dinner—only to find the lord sleeping over his papers. The butler smiled and simply thought it best if he brought his master to bed already without him having dinner. It was so the master could wake up early with a craving appetite for a hearty breakfast. After all, a meal would be much more satisfying if one would indulge in it with a hungry stomach.

It was his doctrine, after all.

Fortunately, the morning came in quietly enough. The sun was starting to shine—the storm had apparently gone by. The mailman had gone to their manor early that morning, and Sebastian was greeted with a letter from the Crown.

The butler stared at the royal seal for a moment. Then he put it inside his coat.

Sebastian proceeded to prepare the lord's morning tea, the usual, as the servants fluttered about the mansion, panicking about the luggage as Mey-Rin fretted about the master's shoes and Bard and Finny brought in the heavy suitcases very, _very_ carefully into the carriage from outside. Sebastian had instructed them to _try_ not to start the morning with a disaster, after all.

Sebastian then pushed his teacart into his master's bedroom, pulled open the curtains, and woke the young boy with the harsh rays of sunlight and the strong scent of Nilgiri tea. Ciel rubbed his eyes and pushed himself up from the bed.

"Good morning, master. Have you had a pleasant sleep?"

"I'm a tad hungry," was his first declaration for the day as Sebastian started to unbutton his nightclothes, completely ignoring his butler's conversational question. "Serve me something heavy."

"Downstairs, my lord. I have prepared a heavy breakfast of steak and salmon sandwich."

Indeed, after having him fully clothed for the day's journey, Sebastian led Ciel to the breakfast area, on a small breakfast table seating only one person. Ciel looked around for a bit, at first ignorant of the meal before him, as if searching for someone because the place didn't yet feel quite complete.

"And where is Elizabeth?"

The butler had a ready answer. "The lady and her maid had gone out for an early morning stroll, my lord. They shall be back soon."

"I…I see."

He spent the next several minutes in silence as he ate his breakfast. Soon after, he was done, and now he was drinking his tea.

"Ah, and young master." Sebastian brought before Ciel a silver tray with a letter and a letter opener on it. "I have received this early in the morning."

Ciel stared at it for a moment, as if contemplating whether he'd even want to read it or not. Eventually, he decided with a sigh. He took the letter, cut the seal with the letter opener, and read the contents. As he reached the bottom of the letter and found out that it was Charles Grey who had written the entire piece, Ciel's brow creased in stress, and suddenly his appetite was gone.

"What is it, master?"

"A kind, polite, and well-mannered boy," he grumped, holding his head in his hand as he laid an elbow onto the tabletop, already stressed this early in the morning. "Lord Grey here sent me a copy of the biography that he'd sent to the L'éveil. It says, and I quote, that 'Ciel Chambers is _extremely_ kind, _extremely_ polite, and _very_ well-mannered.' _Please_." Ciel crumpled the letter in his hand and threw the paper across the room. "I hear the irony already. Apparently Grey's trying to irritate me by forcing me into this stupid identity, _trying_ to make my life miserable."

"And is he succeeding?" asked an amused Sebastian.

"Don't be such an idiot." Ciel pushed back his chair and stood up. "Grey is merely challenging me, and you know how I can't resist a game. I will teach Grey that trying me will only bring me victory. The Queen's Guard Dog will not be stopped by the stupidities he forces me to go through."

A look of pride flashed onto Sebastian's face for a moment as he stared at the young noble before him. The Earl of Phantomhive…this particular human often exceeded his expectations. It was proof that the soul that Sebastian had been cultivating for the past years now was growing ever richer in taste as time progresses on.

Sebastian bowed before the lord on one knee and a hand on his chest. "But of course."

Soon, they were outside, the carriage waiting for the young lord to arrive. Ciel was then greeted by the servants, two of whom were crying because their master had to be gone from the manor for such a long time.

"Waaaah!" wailed Finny and Mey-Rin. "We're really going to miss you, Master Ciel!"

Bard and Snake shyly stepped in, both of whom looked a bit sad that the master of the house had to be gone for so long. Sebastian had even said that it might take a month. And so, the teary Finny and hiccupping Mey-Rin, along with the cigar-smelling Bard and the extremely shy Snake, all bowed down and said—

" _Young master, take care!"_

Ciel stared at the four servants for a moment. And blinked.

"…says Bronte."

"Argh!" glowered Bard over at Snake, "Will you just _stop_ ending your every sentence like that?"

And so, Bard continued to lecture Snake about the conventional manner of speaking while Finnian and Mey-Rin cried about how much they would miss the young master while he's gone. Ciel watched the scene with fascinated eyes. He looked at them, those divvies. Crying and arguing because of little things.

His servants are all such…such…

Such…

 _Children._

He smirked.

At that, the servants suddenly stopped their sobbing/arguing to stare at their chuckling young master. Ciel held the edge of his hat with gloved fingers as he turned away to walk towards the carriage, his cane gently tapping over the concrete ground.

"Well then," he said, finally, handing his ribboned hat to Sebastian as he stepped into the carriage's foothold. "We should be going. I trust you four will take care of the manor while we are gone."

The four immediately lined up like a small army, saluted, and declared their maxim with pride in their voices as Phantomhive servants.

" _Yes, young master!"_

"…

…says Bronte."

Bard slapped his own forehead with a palm.

"Ah! Ciel!" Elizabeth stepped out of the manor with Paula from behind her. There was a bright smile on her face that made her eyes sparkle; her pink dress embraced her body and belled out to the ground as they kissed the floor in its elegance; and her golden hair, tied in pigtails, billowed in the wind from behind her in bouncy curls. The servants gave way for the lady as she walked forward, her steps slow, refined…

 _Ladylike?_

"Hello," she greeted, her voice strangely calm, and for once, properly volumed. She put her gloved, white hands together and turned her head to the side, making her hair bounce sidewards as well. "So, Ciel. You are going?"

Ciel was quite surprised that he hadn't been tackled to the ground yet. And for some strange reason, he found it quite…discouraging. He stared at Elizabeth with eyes that spelled his mild confusion. There were still her bright eyes, her joyous smile, her fresh, radiant face. But there was…something else. He found nothing peculiar about her today—just her lack of usual hugging, though surely, there was _something else._

But what?

Concern washed over his gaze and he made sure to communicate the unspoken words over to her in that one, wordless moment.

 _Is there something…wrong, Elizabeth?_

"Master?"

Ciel blinked. At the butler's voice, he realized he was staring at Elizabeth, and Elizabeth was staring right back at him, so curiously, so innocently, so… _unreadably_. Ciel cleared his throat, turned his head away, and proceeded to finally step into the carriage.

"…Yes." Ciel let his hand land onto Sebastian's, so the butler could support him as he stepped into the carriage's interior. "We shall be going now."

"Certainly," agreed Elizabeth. "And I do hope Ciel would come back home with you this time."

The words stopped his blood cold.

 _And that was what did it._

Ciel once more turned around and looked at Elizabeth. She was smiling. _Smiling_.

And he found it to be rather…cryptic.

She maintained that bubbly smile as she put her hands behind her, smiling as widely as ever. "Take care, okay?"

Ciel was never one for being caught in surprise just that easily, but this morning was turning to be quite stranger and stranger by the minute, and his mission hadn't even started yet. Why was Elizabeth… _acting_ this way? It crossed his mind that it may simply be because she was still recovering from her yesterday's tears, but then again, it may entirely be something else—something else that he hoped wasn't the case at all, something that he dreaded that she might know. Or does she?

 _No._ She doesn't. It would be impossible. She would never know.

And even if she did and all went to hell, he would have the demon by his side to clean everything up for him.

With that in mind, Ciel gave Elizabeth a stiff nod. Once. "Yes, Lizzy. I will."

Sebastian had observed the entire exchange with unplumbed boredom in his eyes.

~`.'~

And Grell was thinking of the very same thing. The reaper was simply bored to _death_. Humans can be such a drag sometimes. They did nothing but sleep and eat and pee—ugh! Such disgusting creatures. What pigs.

This one, for example, had had such a boring life that he simply deserved to die. His life was so _boring_ that he deserved to die a _million_ times. Urrrgh. Why did his lovely Will have to put him through the punishment of reaping such boring souls? The Cinematic Record rustled in front of him and he watched the boy's life flash before him in its utter boredom: he was raised by his parents, he rescued a cat, he sucked at violin, he spent all his time studying, what a bratty noble, blah blah blah, yadda yadda yadda, and because of the soul's utter weakness, it simply had to give in and stop rolling, because the life of this young man had simply been utterly meaningless and purposeless, filled with absolutely nothing but sleeping and studying and sleeping and studying. Ugh.

The Cinematic Record stopped rolling, met by the utterly boring ending of an utterly boring illness. Ugh, finally. He thought the boredom would never end. He stamped onto the page on his book: Nathaniel Hollingsworth, born September 2, 1889, died October 27, 1889 as a result of bodily deterioration—completed, nothing special to note.

Huh. How unfortunate.

And then he blinked when he noticed the dates.

Born, September 2, 1889.

Died, October 27, 1889.

What? How is that possible? This soul must have been, like, thirteen or fourteen years old already. Huh. Perhaps it was just a typo. He didn't know it was even possible for register books to have typos—last time they had one, it was probably in 984 BC…or perhaps 948? He always got the dates mixed up during his first days at the Dispatch Association where they were being taught of historical soul reaping errors. But anyway. He better tell this to the authorities. This typo was probably because of that ugly newbie that just checked in—

Wait. Grell's eyes suddenly bulged out. _Nathaniel Hollingsworth?_ Why did that name sound familiar?

No. It can't be. Didn't he _already_ reap this soul some time ago?

Grell, confused, flipped the pages far back until he saw the name he was looking for: Nathaniel Hollingsworth, born April 5, 1875, died September 26, 1889, as a result of starvation.

Maybe it was a coincidence?

Oh, no, but it _can't_ be just a coincidence. Grell realized this as soon as his eyes landed onto these ominous words, placed under the boy's very name:

 _Name: Nathaniel Hollingsworth._

 _Status: Incomplete._

 _Involved in Case 8a-39._

That was the code that the Dispatch Association had given to the special cases that had been popping up in London just recently. But what did that mean? Why would Will…

And then realization descended upon Grell. Ah! Yes, he _had_ reaped this soul some time ago already! This annoying soul was what got him into this trouble in the first place and Will got so angry that he actually showed a twitch of an emotion. _Imagine!_ Grell never even knew it was possible for that cold, handsome man to even show a glimpse of emotion.

So, this soul, Nathaniel Hollingsworth, was the fifteenth of them _special_ victims, eh? Seems as if Will had accidentally assigned him a special soul to reap! Or no, even better—maybe _not_ accidentally! Maybe this was Will's way of expressing him that Grell was, after all, a special person in his dreary grey life, the vibrant colour painting that stoic attitude of coldness with the passion of his fierily vehement red!

Aaaaahhh! Grell's body was set on fire! He hugged himself so fervently as he groaned and moaned his fantasies of a night of passion! He felt his limbs go flaccid at the thought of Will's strong, manly arms wrapping around him to kiss every inch of his body to death! So Will _did_ care about him after all! Grell is tremendously impassioned—to _death!_

And so, he—she— _whatever_ —gathered his death scythe and passionately jumped from roof to roof, already preparing to report this newest soul of Case 8a-39 to his lovely Will—and perhaps spend the rest of the day and night in his cold, loving arms, inexorably entangled in their hot web of intense love.

Yargh! In just that moment, Grell's life had suddenly taken a swift, sharp turn from utter boredom into sizzlingly sexy, oh, so _sexy_ passion!

"Oh, my Will, my darling sugarpie! I thirst for the kiss of your icy love, as the frosty words from the winter of your mouth shall be boiled by the passion of my own hot tongue! _Arrghhh!_ "

…and Grell said that _humans_ were such disgusting creatures.

~`.'~

The carriage was now moving, and the manor had already gone into the distance. The small figures of Finny, Mey-Rin, Bard, and Snake gave their master a final wave before Tanaka urged them all to return back into the manor to get started for the rest of their day's household chores. Elizabeth, however, remained to stand there, watching the carriage grow littler and littler as the distance from between her and Ciel began to stretch out for far too long until she couldn't sight him anymore. Then she was urged by Paula with a touch on her shoulder to come back to the mansion for her breakfast.

Ciel watched her take a longing look at him one last time, before she obediently walked inside the manor, her head hung, the smile gone. Ciel turned his head away from the window and his grip tightened onto his cane, his gaze going to somewhere distant, thinking about… _that_.

Why? Why didn't Elizabeth…

He looked at the bright, glinting blue gem of the ring on his finger.

 _Why?_

"That had been quite an unnatural exchange between you and Lady Elizabeth."

Ciel looked up at Sebastian. And scoffed. "Don't pay it any mind." He crossed his legs nonchalantly and rested an elbow onto the side of the window, resting his chin on the palm of his hand as he watched the dreary plains go by. "It's just probably her still thinking of yesterday."

Sebastian smirked. "Or it might be probably her thinking of something else entirely."

Ciel glared at the butler at that. He was ready to bite back a retort when suddenly…he realized that it might be wiser to not talk about it at all.

And so he decided to stay silent.

"Ah. Well, anyway, young master," said Sebastian, changing the subject for his master's comfort. "You've already mentioned that this Ciel Chambers…is a kind and well-mannered boy. Am I correct?"

"Yes. Why do you ask?"

"I was under the impression that the L'éveil de Castor is a school centred only on the task of rearing boys with behavioural problems. This Ciel Chambers, if he is as… _kind_ as you say he is, does not seem the type fit that description…"

"Hmm. So just because he's kind, he can't have a behavioural problem?" Ciel poured his scorn at that. "How stereotypical of you. What is your definition of a boy with behavioural problems? Someone who is extremely arrogant and driven with mischief, I suppose?"

"Well, young master, you can't really blame me, now, can you?" said Sebastian, who sounded injured, though mockingly. "That is what I am exposed to every day, and in very high dosages at that."

"Tch." Ciel shifted in his seat, crossed his arms over his chest, and chose to ignore the innuendo. "This 'Ciel Chambers' is kind, polite, and well-mannered. Despite this, though, he is suffering from extreme shyness which might as well be anxiety disorder. He is a vulnerable child, afraid of rejection. He believes in fairies, elves, those fantasies of the sort. It is a form of regression into his own little world because of having been physically abused in school—"

"—because of his weak little body worthy of being laughed at?"

"—by his peers. Don't interrupt me. This type of regression makes for a boy with delusions. His peers and teachers describe him as a pathological liar. He is fond of making grandiose descriptions of everything that falls within his line of sight." Ciel cocked an eyebrow at Sebastian. "Sounds familiar?"

Sebastian closed his eyes with a smile. "Like father, like son."

"And annoyingly so," agreed Ciel, who felt a vein to throb in his forehead. "It is a character typical of a son of that boon. The Viscount and the Viscountess of Druitt, worried of the behaviour of their son, 'Ciel', both decided to send him over to the L'éveil so more attention can be put into pulling him out of his delusions and isolation, for him to become a true gentleman." He opened his eyes and pointedly glared at Sebastian. "And to be perfectly clear with you, his character is not the dilemma here. It is his _behavioural problem_. The two are entirely different."

"I understand the difference between the two from the very beginning, my lord. No need to put much emphasis in it."

Ciel nodded to humour him. "Of course."

The carriage rattled for a moment as the driver bumped into a rock and then its wheels splashed against a muddy puddle left from yesterday's rain.

"Are you quite certain you can handle this, though, my lord?" asked Sebastian suddenly. Being concerned for his master was a butler's aesthetic, after all. "You can't even button your own shirt. A cruel person such as you, imitating the kind and polite character of Ciel Chambers…wouldn't the act be a bit too much?"

The young Phantomhive heir frowned at him. The butler must be joking. _Lying_ was practically Ciel's expertise.

"You underestimate me, Sebastian. I can handle a lie as little as this. After all, ever since the day I made the contract with you, I _have_ submerged myself into a world of lies." Ciel looked at the blue ring on his finger. It was the ring that was proof of who he was…of who he claimed he was. He was Ciel, the Earl of Phantomhive. He let his gaze prolong on the blue diamond for a few moments more, hearing the agonizing screams of the Phantomhives that had died before him, those generations that carried on the curse of their defiled name's legacy.

His grandfather. His father. And then his…his…

" _Somebody, help me!"_

Ciel's throat constricted.

" _Anyone at all. I don't care who."_

He tightened his grip on his cane.

" _SOMEBODY!"_

Ciel closed his eye. He let out a trembling breath to calm himself. Then he looked away, and spoke with a voice so broken that the little remnants were almost carried away by the wind, to be gone forever—hadn't the demon beside him caught them, of course.

"You should know by now," he said, feebly, tremblingly, the words coming from that of a child who had been forced to throw the bliss of innocence away, "that I have already learned how to swim in the depths of a lie's darkness."

 _After first drowning in it, of course._

Sebastian looked at his master for a moment. He carefully observed the reflective look in his young lord's distant eyes.

"Ah," he concluded. "So your breed is that of a dogfish."

That yanked Ciel back to reality and made him blink for a moment, confused as to how _fishes_ of all things managed to squeeze itself into the discussion.

Then he got it.

"Oh. Ha." Ciel sent Sebastian a smile so crooked that a thief would be shamed. "Keep it up."

The rest of their journey had been still enough, save for the gentle rattling of the carriage as they went through their pebbled way. The constant neighing of the horses, the clopping of their hooves against the wet ground, and the lashes of the chaffeur's reigns dominated the rest of the silence that was gratefully welcomed by the master and servant. Ciel, after all, would have to savour his last remaining 'calm before the storm' moments before he began his act as Ciel Chambers. The ride only had to last for nothing more than a few hours, when, finally, the Druitt Manor gradually came into view.

It was a huge estate. Even from this distance both Ciel and Sebastian could make out the artistry that had the whole manor adorned with such elegance only typical of the Chambers. It was nothing to be compared to the darkness that beheld the Phantomhive Manor, because _everything_ was alive. Lush with viridian bushes and flowers, the manor was painted a pristine, glowing white, like snow reflecting the light of the sun. The pillars stood in all their majestic glory. The carriage trekked along the cobblestone path when they eventually had to take a turn around the majestic fountains where intricately-carved white figures of stone Valkyries poured their pots of sparkling clean water, the water flowing out into elaborate, longwinded currents before they rippled out into the water below. The garden was all around them, the bright greens and the colourful flowers sprinkled with the dews left from yesterday's rain. Everything about the estate was sparkling, elegant, shining, and pristine white, with traces of rich gold and royal red lining the features to highlight its class and sophistication, worthy of only the Chambers.

Ciel dully stared out the window, unimpressed.

How overdone.

The carriage stopped, and Sebastian began to get up. He opened the door to make way for his master, and Ciel took one last look at the blue diamond on his ring, as if savouring his stand on his high pedestal for one last time.

 _I am Ciel Chambers now._

He took a deep breath, let it out, and stood up, to meet his new family.

 _I can do this._

As he gingerly took his steps out of the carriage, he caught sight of the people in front of him—there stood the Viscount and the Viscountess of Druitt, smiling at him like the actors they were.

"Ah, our son has arrived!" said the Viscountess in a melodramatic voice worthy of an opera singer. Then she ran down the steps with her immaculate white dress rustling behind her, smiling wide, her black hair billowing out from behind her in their long curls. Sebastian gave way for the lady as she wrapped her gloved arms around Ciel's little body, nearly squeezing the air out of him just as much as Elizabeth usually did. "Your father and sister and I have missed you so much! Tell me, how did the trip to Venice go?"

Ciel narrowed his eyes at her, completely ignoring that royal scent of vanilla that had suddenly wafted through the air.

 _So_ , thought he, _this whole lie had to be as elaborate as this?_

"A-ah, yes, Mother!" he managed to squeak out, acting just as well as he had through all those past missions he had been through. With trembling arms he raised his arms to hug the woman back, and he almost thought _he couldn't do it_. It had been…such a long time since he had hugged someone else. With a sickening twist in the stomach, he realized that…he hadn't even done it to Elizabeth. Or if he did, he certainly couldn't remember. With this degrading thought in mind, he was eventually able to hug the Viscountess back—a lie in the form of affection.

"I've…I've had a wonderful time during my journey, M-Mother. I have…m-missed you as well!"

 _That's right,_ thought Ciel. _Ciel Chambers is supposed to be shy. It would be natural if he had a stuttering problem._

"Ahhh! What a handsome young beauty! Is this our lovely little robin of a son?" interrupted a voice. Ciel looked up at the podium to see a majestic figure.

He realized with horror who it was.

The Viscount of Druitt.

" _Magnificent!_ Such a beauty, indeed!" Aleistor Chambers took his steps down the stairs with a glass of red wine in hand, his elegant white heels tap-tapping against the exquisite marble. His eyes, an imperial shade of violet, gazed deep into Ciel's blue one as he spoke with extravagance dripping lavishly from his stately voice.

"Ah," he said, once in front of Ciel, face-to-face. He knelt on one knee to stand level in front of his eyes, his own ones sparkling as he marvelled at the young figure of a boy before him, admiring the artistry that stood in such loveliness. "What a lovely shade of lonely blue," he murmured, his hand going up to delicately touch the side of Ciel's face, "with mysteries hidden deep within the ocean's core."

Then, that was when the Viscount seemed to take note of the face that seemed quite a bit familiar to him. Aleistor looked at him curiously, wondering what he just saw in him. So with a smaller whisper, the Viscount said, "I feel like we have met before, cock robin. Haven't we?"

Ciel laughed in the voice of a child. "You must be joking, Father!" _Ah, drat._ Calling the Viscount his Father? _I never thought I would have fallen this far._ "Of course we have met before! I am your…s-son, am I not?"

Aleistor considered this for a moment, a small frown playing on his face as he pried deep into Ciel's gaze, as if trying to fish out his secrets and use them against him.

But Ciel was a remarkable liar, and he maintained that smile onto his face.

A few moments more passed. But then Aleistor agreed with him, the frown suddenly gone. "Ah, yes, of course! Of course, you are, my lovely little son! You have nothing to worry, because from now on, we will live together as a happy family!" He patted Ciel on the forehead, so gently that it seemed to be genuine. "Call me Papa, alright, cock robin?"

Ciel stared up at the man, thoughts of murder pounding inside his head. He was… _disgusted_. The hand onto his head felt so heavy that he wanted to cut the man of this arm off.

 _How dare this lecherous oaf…_

"C…Certainly, Papa! From now on, we'll be a family!"

Sebastian could only stare at his master. There was something unreadable playing behind those uninterested red eyes.

And apparently, someone else agreed.

" _Ugh_. How dull." A high pitched voice suddenly entered the conversation, and all eyes turned to the young lady standing on top of the podium. "Is this boring little rat going to be my brother for the next two weeks?" She took her steps delicately, walking down the stairs with her elegant white dress moving smoothly along like silk as she covered her face with a red fan, her dissatisfied purple eyes looking disdainfully over at the boy. "You could have at least gotten me someone who looks a bit more interesting. Someone who actually looks _fit_ to be my brother."

Then she put her fan away to reveal a face showing nothing but derision and disdain. Her beauty was thrown to waste by those two condescending emotions directed at no one else but Ciel.

"So. _This_ is Ciel Chambers, the boring boy who's going to pretend _I'm_ his sister?"

The Viscountess whirled around at her immature daughter to scold her. "Enough, Nicolette. We've talked about this. The Queen's butlers had especially tasked us to—"

"Alright, alright," she said, tolerantly. "Just let me make this rat realize his place before me. Maria?"

A maid suddenly scuttled from behind her. The maid, flustered and red on the cheeks from having run so much, got onto one knee before Ciel and Sebastian.

"This beautiful young lady before you is Lady Antonia Vivienne Nicolette Chambers, daughter of the Viscount and the Viscountess of Druitt," said the maid Maria without error. Nicolette only grinned at Ciel, as if feeling extremely pompous to have her long, exquisite name spoken in all its glory before him. She probably thought that Ciel was a commoner and that he had to be impressed at that.

 _She mustn't have been informed of my real standing_ , thought Ciel, already feeling a certain dislike against this lady. _What a shallow, vain, portentous little wench._

"Ah, yes. A pleasure to meet you, my lady," said Ciel, the lying connoisseur. Sebastian took a step forward, taking that as his cue, but Ciel gave his butler a gaze to halt him. _There's no need to fret, Sebastian. I will introduce myself._ After having issued that silent order, he returned his gaze to this lady who was to be his acting sister for the next few weeks. He had to tolerate this.

"My name is Ciel," he said, ever so meekly. "How beautiful you are today. I shall…be your younger brother, yes?"

 _Hmm_ , he thought forlornly to himself. _Younger brother…huh?_

He would have laughed at that. The irony.

Nicolette raised a deriding eyebrow at him, as if inspecting every inch of his tiny little body and then finding every single little thing faulty in him. She crossed her arms across her chest and looked away.

"Hmph."

"Ah, ha ha! It seems we have hate at first sight over here!" commented a voice, and everyone whipped their heads up to look at the newcomer. Charles Grey was suddenly there, with Charles Phipps standing right behind him. Grey took his steps down the stairs, all the while twirling his sword in the air with a smirk on his face. "My, my. Don't worry, Lady Nicolette. All of this will only last for a week or two. You shan't have any trouble dealing with this new brother of yours."

Grey gave Ciel a mocking little smile, and the young Phantomhive clenched his fists.

"Ciel Chambers is, after all, nothing else but a _very_ kind, _very_ polite, and very, _very_ well-mannered boy…" Grey looked at Ciel, as if enjoying the sight of him in such a miserable position. "…is he not?"

Silence settled, as lightning flashed between the two earls.

 _So._ Ciel looked at Grey with challenging eyes. _You doubt my abilities, Lord Grey?_

Very well, then.

Let this game begin.


	4. His Master, An Irony

**I do not own anything you recognize.** **This chapter is heavily influenced by an Artemis Fowl fanfic called** _ **Why One Must Not Attempt to Analyze a Child Genius**_ **by fiercejinx and Anthony Horowitz' spy novel entitled** _ **Alex Rider, Point Blank**_ **.**

 **Here you go, twenty-seven Microsoft Word pages of one hell of a chapter. I sincerely do hope that you'll enjoy it! ;)**

* * *

He hated this place.

The cold food. The cold beds. The cold rooms, and the cold smiles. He could take them _no longer_.

They were trying to make him insane, in this sinister place where everything just seemed cold and dead and wrong.

He hated, hated, _hated_ this place!

All of it, _all_ of it— _everything_ in here was a lie!

And the smiles—the smiles…the _smiles_ were the _worst_. They _smiled_ at him, as if everything was perfectly all right, and he _hated_ it.

Liars.

 _Liars!_

He _hated_ all these liars!

 _He wanted to get out of this godforsaken place already!_

Godforsaken? _Godforsaken?_

Fine, then. If God had forsaken him already, then, _then_ he shall forsake Him too. And what did his religious parents teach him, huh? That He was a Father from above, where we could all cry our sighs and seek for salvation? What lies. What _lies_. That _Father_ was no father at all! No one, _no one_ was going to save him now, so he was going to stop praying to a deaf God—ha! How about you try _non_ - _existent?_ —and get out of this place on his own. Because if he won't…if he _won't_ …

He will be like them all. Like his _classmates_. Smiling, laughing alongside each other, like everything was just _perfectly fine_ , with their dead, cold, lying eyes.

The boy's fingers trembled as he forced himself to hold his fountain pen more tightly than ever, the letters on the cold piece of paper shaky and unreadable. It didn't matter. He had to write this. He had to.

 _M-My name…_

It would be the only thing to assure him that he was still alive, that he still had a beating heart, in this dead place full of nothing but dead boys, dead classmates, dead friends, dead teachers.

… _I am…B-Bernard…Russell._

Or was he?

 _Was he?_

Who…who _was_ he?

 _No. NO. You're letting them get to you. Snap out of it! You are Bernard. Don't forget that. Don't forget that. I beg you. Don't ever forget that!_

 _Your name is Bernard!_

 _That's right. Calm down. You figured it out, so calm down. You will not forget it again, okay? Your name…is Bernard._

 _Resist them. Hold on to your name for as long as it takes. Hold on. Hold on to your name. And your name…your name is…is…_

… _what is it, again?_

 _No. No. I forgot it again. No! No, please, no, what is—_

"My name," he said aloud, the words tumbling out through trembling lips, his breaths coming in wisps of smoke in the cold air. He was going to hold onto the last piece of truth that he can ever have, and, no matter what, he will not give it away. He will strive to live in this place full of lies, by being the only truth to live.

"...is Earl Bernard Russell."

And he was going to get out of this dead, cold prison, no matter what, even if it gets him killed.

Unlike most people, he was willing to sacrifice his life if it meant having to protect the truth.

* * *

IV. His Master, An Irony

* * *

A chess piece was lifted and firmly placed back onto the board to attack his opponent.

Bishop to E4.

"…and so," continued Charles Grey, drawing near to the conclusion of his explanation. "In accordance to Her Majesty's wishes, I ask that you all cooperate nicely."

The young Phantomhive, inwardly satisfied of his move, leaned back onto his high plush chair and lifted his gaze from the chess board and into the eyes of Earl Grey. Lady Nicolette, who sat from across Ciel, observed the little boy who was to act as her baby brother from this day on. She didn't care much about what the adults were discussing about, really; she preferred to occupy herself by observing the new people that had to live in their manor for the next several days.

This… _Ciel Chambers_ , for instance. Her new 'baby brother'. A hilarious figure, she thought. Annoying, but hilarious. Such a small child in such serious dark clothing. There was something about him that unnerved her, though. His arrogant posture, that indifferent gaze, those crossed legs that spoke of nothing but superiority, and that bored expression on his face. Why, how absolutely detestable. He hadn't even spoken to her, not once, but his very presence already made her feel disgusted.

With her gloved hands, she gripped the fabric of her white gown, so tightly that she surprised herself of her own strength.

She just…wanted him _out_ of this house.

The Queen's butlers weren't entirely a different story. The short one…Earl Grey. He really got into her nerves for some reason. He frightened her. Whenever he smiled at her, she couldn't help but think that he was planning something devious to do to her. And that other one, Charles Phipps. She had nothing much to say about him, honestly, only that he was so incredibly dull. And that aggravating boy's butler… _Sebastian_ , she thought. He had treated her nicely with a lovely smile and a polite hand, which was a stark, glaring contrast with his master, but still, Lady Nicolette found this Sebastian to be quite disagreeable. What a slovenly appearance.

She cautiously hid her face behind her fan as her purple eyes roamed around the drawing room to observe each and every one of them.

 _Men_. They're all the same.

Then, she eyed the chess board. She observed that her opponent had moved his bishop forward, in a pathetic attempt to look like he was attacking her defences. _How foolish_ , thought the lady. Her opponent had been making foolish moves ever since the game had started. Didn't he see that she was trying to pry into his defences? This boy was probably so desperate to be on the offensive that he absolutely refused to be on the defensive at all costs.

Lady Nicolette was a chess player herself. She had thought herself to learn how. Why, she wasn't at all like any other normal lady—she was quite the adventurous one, always seeking new things to do, and a girl like her with such a venturesome personality is bound to get bored on the tedious things that a noble lady 'had' to do. Socializing, sewing, curtsying in front of noblemen, well, she found these things to be nice, but she wanted to match the intellect of men, so she thought herself various more academic things, like chess. And she was proud to say that she'd become quite the genius. So, when that little Ciel had asked her to a match…

"Do you play chess, Lady Nicolette?" Ciel had asked when they were being escorted to the drawing room, noticing the idle chessboard on the far side.

"Why, yes, _my little lord_ ," she had replied condescendingly. "I have often matched the chess skills of adult men, and never once lost."

"Is that so?" Nicolette thought that she saw the ghost of a smirk that had found its way into Ciel's lips. "May I challenge you to a match, then, my lady?"

"What… _you?_ " She had laughed and looked down at him scornfully. "I'll defeat a rat like you in four moves or less."

"Perhaps. I couldn't possibly rival my lady's brilliance."

Lady Nicolette, with that little memory in mind, smirked over at Ciel and took her move with delicate fingers that had been personally attended to by the best manicurists from France.

Rook to A3.

Surprise filled the boy's expression at that. Lady Nicolette, satisfied of herself, basked in the glory of her own genius.

 _Take that, you annoying little sod._

Meanwhile, the Viscountess sipped her tea, her beautiful face calm and composed. She was taking this situation surprisingly well, even after having learned from Earl Grey that there would be possible spies that would roam around their manor with Ciel Chambers in her house. She was mature and in control, both of her thoughts and actions, which were all as proper as a lady—she was a stark contrast against her daughter, who was a bit scally in all the pomposity of everything she did. Charles Phipps remained as stoic as ever, standing from behind where Grey was seated. Sebastian, as well, stood as faithfully as ever behind his master, boredom playing its different shades all over the butler's face.

They had dropped the act once inside the drawing room, sipping the mild tea served by the Chambers' butler like the English nobles they were. They were having their preliminaries, a brief discussion on how all this should have to go for a duration of two weeks—at maximum. All these before the L'éveil de Castor had to arrive and pick up their new student: the alleged young Viscount Chambers.

Only the Viscount of Druitt was absent from the little meeting. He had wished to stay with them for a while longer, but he claimed that he had to go attend a party of his friend's over to Birmingham. Ciel was, of course, right to be suspicious, as the git had been a member of many secret societies like he had witnessed before. Only the devil knows what the Viscount is up to again this time. He could only hope that it didn't involve black markets and moving corpses this time, but lest he get too optimistic he reminded himself that it was Aleistor Chambers he was thinking about. Nevertheless, no matter what the Viscount's business is, the young earl thought that he should be thankful. He now had one git out of the way, leaving him simply two more to deal with.

He smirked.

"Checkmate."

The lady's mouth opened in disbelief and she nearly dropped her cup of tea as she watched her White King get cornered in the elaborate web created by the Black's Bishop, Knight, and Queen. She couldn't figure out how on Earth she missed it.

Those moves…were traps all along?

" _What!_ " screamed an outrageous Nicolette, who apparently cannot accept that she had just lost. And to a child. She stood up and practically threw the whole chessboard away from her, as if the very presence of such a thing disgusted her to the very core. Her mother was shocked, and Sebastian, Grey, and Phipps looked at the lady with alarmed faces as she towered menacingly over her newfound rival.

"But—but that's impossible! You must have cheated! No one has ever defeated me before! _Ever!_ "

The scattered chess pieces bounced all over the floor, and once they settled, silence prevailed.

Ciel gave the whole mess one look. Then he closed his eye, inhaled the tea's scent, and brought the cup to his lips, as nonchalantly as ever.

He lifted the cup to Sebastian and said one word, displeased. "Sugar."

The butler took the cup from the young lord's hand and obliged. "Yes, my lord."

A mortified Lady Nicolette, her face and ears and neck reddening intensely, had hot tears welling up in her eyes.

" _I hate you for this!"_ She rounded on to her mother. "Take him out of here! I am _tired_ of men's insolent behaviour! _I don't want_ him _to be my brother!_ "

Lady Chambers had an exasperated look over her face, as if she and her daughter had gone through this discussion a million times already and she was getting tired of it. "Nicolette, _please_ —"

She slammed the door, her last words bouncing off from the walls of the room in eerie echoes.

 _I don't want_ him _to be my brother!_

At that, Grey looked at Ciel with an amused expression on his face, clearly intrigued on how the young earl was going to react to such a statement. Ciel, however, knew of Grey's intentions and refused to give him the satisfaction, so he merely continued to sip his tea, appreciating the sweetness of it while he had the opportunity to.

Lady Chambers cleared her throat to break the ice. "Maria? See to Nicolette, will you?"

The maid, who had gone unnoticed throughout the entire ordeal until now, nodded her head fervently at her mistress. "Y…yes, my lady!"

The door closed.

"You know, Lord Phantomhive," quipped an entertained Lord Grey once the maid was gone, "you should write a book. 'How to Make Young Ladies Cry in Two Syllables or Less', penned by the best expert that the world has ever seen."

And then there's another one of the aforementioned gits.

"I had to teach her the lesson never to trifle with me," said the young heir, his voice strictly controlled. "It seemed that she prided herself from being such a profound chess player, and I simply couldn't resist the opportunity to deflate her swollen head a bit." Ciel looked at the Viscountess. "I apologize."

"Oh, no, no, dearest Earl Phantomhive," answered the lady with a brilliant smile, addressing Ciel by his title for the first time since they have met. She still held herself with calm and dignity, her chin up high, despite all the unnecessary display showcased by her rumbustious child. With her grace and beauty, no one would ever think that she was ever even a mother at all. "It's fine, really. It is I who has to apologize on the behalf of my daughter. The reason behind her rash behaviour may be that she is not at all aware of who you really are."

"Oh?" said Ciel, not surprised in the slightest, but intrigued nonetheless. "As I suspected, then."

Lady Chambers nodded. "For all she knows, you are merely the son of a poor baron or knight who had to go here for a social experiment of her father's. You know how the Viscount is. With all his bizarre schemes and odd shenanigans, my daughter has grown tired to ask whenever some strange things happen every time her father is involved." She looked at Ciel with a trace of embarrassment in her golden brown eyes. Human trafficking, black markets, secret societies, the Campania, all his lavish parties and all the ladies he'd taken with him—Irina and Nicolette Chambers, a mother and daughter constantly cast aside by their husband and father, could both only pretend that Aleistor Chambers wasn't even a part of their lives at all.

"Nicolette hadn't always been like this. She was kind, very kind, but only until he…began to neglect us," continued the esteemed lady with a pained smile on her face. "And ever since she had been rejected by her fiancé some time ago because of some…reason, she had started to suspect that all men are the same way."

Ciel gently swirled the contents of his teacup as he looked at his reflection in it.

Rejected by her fiancé…hmm.

"And she and I had been quarrelling ever since Lord Grey here announced that there is going to be another boy to live in our manor. She was simply upset when she found out that you would be arriving. And…oh!" Lady Chambers suddenly seemed to snap out of her reveries. "And if I may ask a favour from you, my lord…please never reveal to Nicolette your real identity. Not that I am obliging you, though, my lord, I—I simply thought that she would really be very—very…disturbed once you—and I don't want to worry her, and—"

"No." Ciel raised a hand to halt the rattled lady. "I understand."

Lady Chambers seemed to be relieved of that. "Thank you, my lord!"

Grey clapped his hands smartly to crack the air twice, bringing the pair back to business with a start.

"Let's stop this idle chat. We still have more things to talk about."

The next part of the discussion consisted of all the technical things that all but made Ciel fall into a kip. Grey informed them, for example, that the L'éveil de Castor sends over spies, so it was necessary that they all had to act their part as frequently as possible—especially when they are out of the manor where they could be openly observed. Also, he told Ciel specifically that butlers won't be allowed in the school—the academy is very strict with the personnel and simply wouldn't allow outsiders. This, of course, gained immediate protest from both Ciel and Sebastian, but Grey said that it cannot be helped—on this particular mission, the butler had to be separated from his master completely.

"This is outrageous," griped Ciel. "I cannot just enter such a dangerous establishment without some sort of protection by my side—"

"You really _can't_ do anything by yourself, huh?" taunted Grey, deliberately provoking him with jeering eyes. "You're cheaper than I thought you were."

That earned an annoyed glare from the young earl. Earl Grey really did underestimate his Phantomhive abilities, didn't he? That blasted Grey just wasn't aware that this kind of thing had already happened to Ciel numerous times before. In the circus, when he and Sebastian were forced to take separate tents. In the case of von Siemens, where Ciel was pinned to be the killer and Sebastian had to 'die'. At the Campania, Ciel was even able to take care of himself and Lizzy from the moving corpses without Sebastian by his side for more than thirty minutes. At Weston College, when Sebastian had to take the disguise of a teacher while Ciel fussed around the school campus to become a fag. They had been separated from each other many times in the most bizarre of situations, and although Ciel often ended up hurting himself whenever that had to happen, Sebastian was somehow always there. Surely, then, they can handle this one as smoothly as they had in the past.

They just had to show Grey.

"S…Sebastian. We have to begin adapting to this situation. Starting tomorrow, stay clear from me as much as possible, so long as I do not call for you, or my life is not threatened. Understood?"

Sebastian reacted rather falteringly at that. "Young master…but how—"

Ciel's teacup landed firmly onto his saucer, making a loud clink resound in the air.

"Understood?"

The butler could only gaze at the young lord, unable to do anything to change his mind. With a sigh, he resigned to agree.

"…yes, my lord."

Grey grinned. "Spiffing, then!" he announced, that carefree attitude apparent in his smile that had always held nothing but mischief. He pushed himself up from his plush chair and walked to stand beside Phipps, his white-gloved fingers toying at the hilt of his sword by his side.

"Well, I think we all better start acting our parts here. Phipps and I are just going to stand guard to make sure all goes well. You all can worry about your acts once we see that that the spies have come—we'll inform you when that happens. Tomorrow, maybe, even a week from now, who knows." Grey's gaze then fell over Ciel.

"And earl."

"What?" snapped the boy, his voice a near growl.

"Isn't the baby brother going to go apologize to his crying big sister, now?"

Ciel fought the urge to reach back into his coat pocket and point the barrel of his gun on this aggravating git's skull.

If only Grey wasn't the Queen's butler.

The rest of the day proceeded as dully as it possibly could. The Viscountess of Druitt brought Ciel to their library where records of the Chambers family could be found. He was brought to a table where everything he had to learn was already prepared and laid out for him to read. Merely looking at the heavy load of papers and documents was enough to already make him feel tired, but he reminded himself that he had to go through this, no matter how tedious it was. As Ciel Chambers, he had to learn all about the several generations of family heads, the symbolisms lurking behind their family crest, the family's past artistic achievements—it turned out that several members of their family truly were talented, indeed—everything else that was related to being a Viscount of Druitt. It couldn't possibly get any duller, but to make it even worse—or, more accurately, to annoy him even further—Grey came waltzing into the library like everything was all fine and dandy before dumping another pile of documents for him to swim about.

"What the devil are you trying to tell me now?!" demanded Ciel, who pushed away the pile of papers away from him.

"You need to learn all about Ciel Chambers, down to the very last detail," said Grey with a smirk on his face. "Family, friends, affiliations, personal problems, and so on and forth. Stop your complaining, because I have lots more files to bring to you! I really can't wait to see you drown yourself soon in all these documents. Good luck staying afloat, dogfish!"

Ciel vehemently glared at Grey as the annoying git left the room, laughing like that was the most brilliant joke ever made.

People _just_ couldn't leave him alone, could they?

Meanwhile, Ciel had sent Sebastian off to start his investigation on the dead noble boys. The newspaper on the next morning informed Ciel that the count had already risen to fifteen, with the death of this young man named Nathaniel Hollingsworth. The obituary even contained the mournful words of his mother, the Duchess Hollingsworth, now just a widowed woman, who had cried that her 'little boy' shouldn't have left her with such an early death that he never deserved.

Ciel clenched his hands into fists as he finished reading the article. _Worry not, Duchess_ , thought he. _I will put an end to this soon. That, I vow._

Sebastian spent his spare time visiting the dead boys' families, interviewing their friends, gathering documents, and stealing information from the Scotland Yard's 'shoddy archive', as his young master fancied to coin it. He had even had a brief encounter with the aspiring officer Fred Abberline, who didn't look very happy about seeing the butler about to jump from the building's fifth floor with the stolen folders in his hand.

"Y-you! What are _you_ doing here?!"

Sebastian only smiled, his long fingers tightening their hold on the said folders. "My young master wishes for your early promotion, Mister Underline. I bid you good day."

And then he jumped. From five floors up.

"What the devil—it's _Abberline!_ Hey! Are you asking to _die_ —"

But when Abberline leaned over the window, Sebastian was gone. His eyes widened to the size of saucers and he was so rattled to the core that it even came to the point that his fellow officers wondered if he'd just seen a ghost, which, if one would think about it, was not really far from the truth—he'd seen _not a single trace_ of the butler, after all, even if he'd just witnessed him jump from the window fifty feet up right then and there!

…or perhaps Abberline really was just a pubescent old nut.

Ciel spent the rest of the day studying the history of the Chambers' family: how their family first got their Viscountcy, their acquaintance to the Queen, how much they were known throughout England and for what, and their tedious family genealogy. Honestly, he was getting _tired_ of memorizing all the names and dates and information—he felt absolutely drained to the point that he simply could not force himself to memorize another one of the long, drawn-out titles of some dead noble into his brain.

And combine these to the deaths that he had to deal with. Sebastian's reports came to Ciel like a swarm of bees, swirling and swirling around to grip him on the neck, forcing him to sniff out the clues that weren't there. He felt like he was getting trapped in all the influx of information that he was pushing his already exhausted brain to process.

The files were laid out in his table. Three different sets of them. One pile was with regards to the Chambers' family history, the second one concerned all that was about the character he was going to play, and the third one burst at the seams about the noble boys. The last one was what stressed him the most. At the top of the pile, there rested a summary of the victims, the list he had just recently made, written in his tired penmanship.

— _Viktor Spaskaya, 16. Russian. —Friedrich Hermann, 14. German. —Armando Lucio, 13. Italian. —Ambrose Milan, 14. English. —Josef de Lafayette, 15. French. —Gilbert Andrés, 16. French. —Jefferson Cahill, 13. Irish. —Nicolas Antoine, 18. French. —Jean-Paul Caritas, 16. French. —Karl Geoffrey, 14. English. —Antonio Rosa, 15. Italian. —Nikolai Khrushchev, 17. Russian. —Fabian Michelson, 13. English. —Ian Maxwell, 14. English. —Nathaniel Hollingsworth, 14. English._

He let his gaze rest upon the last two names. Those two names were the most familiar to him, and stood out from them all. These two, they were only a pair of fourteen-year-olds, his fellow English noble boys, who had been sent by their parents to a school just because of some behaviour, and then came back sick to die.

 _Ian is my beloved son,_ Marquis Maxwell had once written on his diary, _and yet the person who returned just didn't…seem to be like him. It was as if he was a completely different person when he came back. I love my Ian, but…it just…it just isn't like him at all._

' _He was such a naughty boy, yes,'_ cried Duchess Hollingsworth as written in yesterday's morning paper, _'but I love him so much! I love him, I love him so! He doesn't, he does_ not _, deserve to die such an early death! Nathaniel, my little boy! Why do you and your father have to leave me so soon? My little boy!'_

Ian Maxwell. Nathaniel Hollingsworth.

 _You two are lucky_ , thought Ciel, his face as indifferent as ever. _You have a mother and a father to cry over your deaths._

So unlike him.

But, then of course, _they_ were dead now.

Unlike _him._

The Phantomhive heir snickered at that. He'd always thought that the world had such a perverted way of balancing things in the cruellest ways possible.

He stood up from his desk for the first time in hours, decided that he should probably take a break. He took the time to browse through the library's numerous shelves. There were things about Viennese cooking, Chinese architecture, Latin poems, Oxford dictionaries, Renaissance art, and all the dull things possible. He did, however, spend some time appreciating a book that spoke of Leonardo da Vinci's brilliance. He personally admired the man. Ciel had no doubt that da Vinci's genius would be appreciated for hundreds of years more. He continued fingering more books from the shelves, until he finally found the shelf that consisted of the fiction books that were of his genre—the books that he had been looking for all this time.

The stories of Edgar Allan Poe.

Sebastian, when he'd arrived in the library later in the night to report his findings, found his master asleep over a page. The page read the following title:

 _Never Bet the Devil Your Head._

Sebastian suppressed a laugh of amusement at that.

Unlike the last time, the butler decided to wake the master. He was to have his dinner with the rest of the Chambers' family. The dinner went well—the Lady Nicolette seemed a bit more restrained in her actions this time. It looked like the Viscountess of Druitt had taken the liberty to discipline her young daughter a bit, and Ciel was overly thankful that he need not deal with more stupidities at dinner. He'd been tired enough for the entire day as it was. He simply wanted to go to bed and drift into a dreamless sleep.

But he had a hard time to.

"Sebastian."

Sebastian stopped in his steps, just before he had to open the door and leave the young lord asleep in his new bed. "Yes, master?"

Ciel only tightened his grip on the quilts around him. Long ago…his Papa was usually the one who tucked him into bed. But his father was no longer around to make him feel the safety of a parent's arms, and now the only thing he had left with him was a demon.

It would have to do.

"…don't leave."

Sebastian blinked, quite a bit surprised. This habit had stopped ever since the young master had reached an older age where he began to hold a bit more stubbornness and pride. The butler wondered why this habit had to come back after all those years, and in the midst of such a time.

"This is because you've recently read one of Poe's works, isn't it?"

"This is a foreign territory," was Ciel's prepared response, which he'd said perhaps a tad…quicker, than necessary. "Therefore, there are more threats toward my life here than I already do when I am in my own manor. Since your duty is to protect me, my words are only reasonable. So don't you dare leave." He clenched his young fists, pulled the quilts even closer to him, but his voice remained as steady as ever.

"That is an order."

Sebastian's natural response was, of course, to smirk. He thought that that had been a bit too defensive on the young master's side.

Nevertheless, he walked over to his master's sleeping form, hovered over him, and put a hand onto the child's head as if to stroke him out of parental love, quite…mockingly.

"Good night, then, my lord."

Ciel fell asleep, scolding himself vehemently, with his hands gripping the quilts in an attempt to hold onto the last ray of warmth he could ever have. What had he been _thinking?_

Asking for a father's comfort from a cold demon was too much to ask for.

The act immediately started the day when Grey had informed them in private that he and Phipps had spotted several men arriving in the estate just the night before. While Ciel drowned in all his documents, he had to drown in Nicolette's aggravating demands as well.

Make it worse when Nina Hopkins just _had_ to arrive in such a perfect timing while he was stuck in this humiliating position.

He demanded why _she_ had to arrive, but Charles Grey hadn't sent for her simply because he wanted to annoy him (though Grey was of course glad to hear that it had the desirable side-effects). Grey reasoned that they'd sent for the family tailor because Ciel had to have a change of wardrobe—all his dark clothes of navy blue and midnight blue and cobalt blue and all of its other fascinating shades didn't really suit 'Ciel Chambers' well, especially when it was well-known that the Chambers family's trademarks were white and gold.

Ciel didn't care much about what he wore, really. White may not be his most fitting colour, but he didn't mind having to temporarily tolerate such things. Having to encounter that tailor when he was in the middle of this disgrace, though, was another matter entirely, given the fact that the woman had a mild—no, _rabid_ obsession over young boys in corsets. She was the one who had created _that dress_ for him after all.

And without Sebastian by his side to stop her this time…

"N… _Nina Hopkins?_ " he said, his voice reaching a miserable squeak on the last syllable.

"Yes, Earl, she's our family tailor," replied the Viscountess once Ciel had learned that the aforementioned seamstress would be arriving that very day. Then the Lady Chambers took note of the horror displayed on the young lord's face. She faltered a bit from her steps and looked at him with concern in her eyes. "Why, my lord…is something the matter?"

Ciel seriously preferred reading a mountainload of useless papers and forged documents over having to meet _Nina_ , of all people, while he's to act all _very_ kindly, _very_ politely, and very, _very_ well-mannerdly. _No_. His reputation was at stake here. What was going to happen to his dignity now? If there was any scrap left of it, that is.

"C…can I…skip this one…"

"NO!" shouted Nicolette, who barged into the room sauntering like a horse, fanning her face in that aggravating manner of hers with all of the planet's pompous vanity poured into the laugh in her tone. She'd apparently eavesdropped into their whole conversation and was overly satisfied to hear that the boy's weakness was tailors, like her dear friend, Nina Hopkins was. A pair of misandrists, they were, and Nicolette and Nina had been good friends ever since they've known each other to be fellow man-haters. Nicolette could just imagine the both of them torturing this little rat with various dresses made of lots of frills and ribbons and hats and—oh!

 _Pink!_

"Nicolette…" started her mother, a gentle warning in her tone. "What are you planning?"

That was when Nicolette realized that she had been rubbing her hands in front of the two of them with the glee of a cackling mad witch. So she stopped.

That had probably looked creepy.

"Oh!" she exclaimed. "Nothing, nothing at all, mother! It's just that…" Nicolette gave Ciel a triumphant grin. She still hadn't forgiven him from cheating on her during their last chess match. "…revenge tastes soooo _sweet_ , doesn't it?"

To say the least, meeting Nina that afternoon had been torture.

"Ahh! I smell, it, I smell it—I _smell_ the presence of a young man! Ooooh! Do my eyes…do my eyes deceive me? My Lord from heaven above, it can't be true! But Earl, is that…is that actually _you?_ "

"Huh? What are you _talking_ about, Nina?" cackled Nicolette. "That's no earl. That's just the son of Baron Clive or Baron Lister or some other poor baron or something. He's going to be my brother for the next several days for whatever reason."

"What? But…surely this is the earl I know—?"

"The earl you know?" piped in Ciel, with that innocent smile of his and that innocent large eye of his. "B-but…s-s-surely we haven't met before, h-have we, Miss?"

Nina looked at Ciel. Ciel looked at Nina. His stern gaze said only two words—

 _Play along._

At that very moment, Nina was able to understand that this was all only part of the Earl of Phantomhive's work as the Queen's Guard Dog—so she nodded, all professional and business-like.

Also at that very moment, Nina was able to understand that this may be the only opportunity she would ever have to toy around with Ciel Phantomhive's gloriously boyish body and drag him to his utter doom—OH!

 _And right when Mister Stiff wasn't around!_

"Oooh! What a nice brother you have, then, Nicolette! _Gaaah_ , what smooth, supple boyish legs!"

Ciel reddened, clearly disliking that sensation of the woman's long fingers trekking on his legs. "G-get your filthy hands off of me!"

Nina backed away from the Earl, mock hurt in her eyes. "What a rude younger brother you have here, Nicolette. I thought you said that he was _very_ kind, _very_ polite, and _very_ well-mannered?"

Ciel inhaled a sharp breath at that, his whole body as red as a freshly picked apple. He hated the two women staring at him with those large, innocent eyes of theirs.

 _Innocent_ , the devil.

"F…fine. Do as you like, Miss Nina."

What…had…he…just… _said?_

Those words were apparently the magic words. Both Nina and Nicolette burst into glee and danced around like the happy women they were, squealing their joy for having been given the leave to do as they liked to his body. After conducting their celebratory dance, they towered over him menacingly, their eyes glowing a maleficent red, laughing like mad villainesses over his shrinking form. They stripped him of his clothes immediately.

"What th— _stop!" The brand. "_ What on _Earth—?!_ "

 _No, no, calm down_ , he reminded himself. _Elizabeth is not here._

He was relieved when he realized that. Thank goodness.

But _still_. These women had no right to simply strip him and—

"Forgive us, young lord," grinned Nina, "but today I shall be making nude measurements." She proceeded to take them down—or at least, pretended to, because the whole process was unusually fast than normal. Nina had only recently taken the Earl's measurements, after all. They just had to make this a worthy show in front of Nicolette.

Or maybe Nina was just making the excuse of taking nude measurements just so she could _see_ him nude.

"Now then!" said an overjoyed Nina (perhaps _too_ overjoyed), who seemed pink in the face, flustered at all the excitement going on in that brain of hers, whatever she's thinking. Ciel didn't wish to know. "We're finished with the measurements! What say you now, Lady Nicolette, about the new clothes I shall make for him?"

The lady was completely oblivious about how quick the measuring process went, and was just too happy to be able to give her opinions.

"Hmmm," she said, tapping her chin, looking as if she had to think about it for a while. Then, Lady Nicolette suddenly burst into clapping her hands with the mirth of an innocent child. "Oh, I know, I know! I want my little baby brother to have a tight silhouette, but with a feminine twist with it!"

"Ah! Indeed, indeed! Hmmm…let me see if I can do that…perhaps we would need to fit him into different outfits first so I can get inspired! Hurry, hurry, Nicolette! Bring all your clothes here so we can try it on him!"

Nicolette's _dresses?_

Ciel felt like he wouldn't be able to stop this now. " _Nina—_ "

"Oh, yes of course, then, Nina!" exclaimed Nicolette, who grinned at Ciel's apparent misery. "Maria, assist me!"

"Y-Yes, Lady Nicolette!"

And then the lady and her maid left to leave the two of them alone. Nina smirked.

"So then, my lord," began the tailor once she was sure they were out of earshot. "You work for Her Majesty by being…" She gestured at his nude body with a snicker. "… _this?_ "

"Shut it." Ciel clenched his fists, and his face flushed pink. "Anyway, why do you even have to make me try on Lady Nicolette's dresses to get you inspired? I thought you were a natural artist."

Nina gasped, offended. " _Of course I am!_ " seethed the irritated seamstress. "You know that I always get inspired no matter what! I sent the lady away for a purpose, you know!"

Ciel snapped his full attention to her at that. "A purpose?"

Nina looked cautiously, left and right, as if double-checking if they were really alone or not. Then she leaned over to Ciel, and spoke to him in a whisper.

"Does your mission this time concern the L'éveil de Castor?"

At that, Ciel's face expressed surprise, but then he reminded himself that he shouldn't be. Nina Hopkins was, after all, a Phantomhive tailor.

"Yes, it does," he replied, his face returning to that of normal—grim, professional, neutral, business-like. "What of it?"

"I've just received orders for a new uniform." Nina's face turned grave. "Ten new ones. All your size. I thought you would have wanted to know."

Ciel blinked. That was not the kind of information he expected to gain. But who was he to judge? Nina still _was_ a tailor, after all.

"And how, pray tell, is _that_ significant to—"

" _Yargh!_ " Nicolette barged into the room once more, with Maria from behind her who carried a load of dresses. Ciel looked at the horrid pile with _horror_ in his eyes. Nicolette picked one from said horrid pile with a grin on her face. She laid it out and put it beside Ciel to see if it fit him.

"Oh! Look, look at this corset, Nina! I think it would fit him SO UTTERLY RIGHT."

Ciel flinched away from the horrid thing and the abounding memories that came with it.

"Come, Ciel, my little brother," mocked Nicolette. "Come into the little corset now! Come, come! It will not bite you, I promise!"

Ciel did _not_ want to go in there. "I…I…"

" _NINA!"_ cried Nicolette, real tears on her eyes, the damn actress. "Ciel doesn't want to fit himself into the corset! Oh, what on Earth shall we do now! Such a tragedy! _My brother hates me now!_ "

"Ah, s-sister dear," stammered Ciel uncomfortably in a pathetic attempt to make his inherently cruel voice sound at least soothing. "I d-did not mean to make you cry, my l-lady, I do not hate you, I promise…now, now, enough with the tears, please, lady!"

Even though what he _really_ wanted to say was…

 _Damn you, damn you,_ damn _you, you little she-devil._

Nina immediately fell into act and patted the crying lady on the shoulder to hush her. "Oh, my lady, now, now, I will help you fit him, don't worry!"

"Right!" said Nicolette, tears suddenly gone and already back into her spirits. "Let's _do_ _this thing!_ "

And so, Nina and Nicolette got to work on poor Ciel, who got dragged into this hell screaming and kicking.

"No—please, I beg you _not_ to—DON'T! Not _there_ —I said _no_ , you lecherous creature! _NO!_ Stop it, _that's too tight!_ "

Until, eventually, they were finished fitting him into a dress. It was a bit too large for his small body, but it did the charm. It was a dress with lovely white frills, its ruffles trimmed with gold, and a large, seductive red ribbon onto the chest in a pitiful attempt to accentuate his non-existent cleavage.

Ciel's face was a perfect match to said ribbon. "Are you done with me now?"

"Ah! Such a lovely, cute little boy, yes you are!" squealed Nicolette, who pinched Ciel on the cheek like she simply couldn't help but to do so.

" _Ow!"_ Ciel's hands immediately flew to his injured cheek. "Lady Nicolette—I mean, s-sister dear, _please!_ "

Nicolette grinned. With her long fingernails, she'd made sure that the pinch seriously _hurt_.

"Splendid, _splendid!"_ commended Nina, whose face was streaked red with all this excitement. "To see our young specimen in such a lovely dress causes the fresh river of my imagination to overflow and splash over like a waterfall! Nonononowait… I got it, I GOT IT! I HAVE TO SKETCH THIS ONE IMMEDIATELY! Get me my pen and paper! _NownownownownowNOW!_ "

A panicked Maria scuttled over and gave Nina her sketching materials. While Nina sketched with all her might, Ciel continued to grumble.

"Is this pointless stupidity _really_ necessary?" said he, thoroughly annoyed now. Not to mention itchy, what with the dress' heavy and lacy nature. Ciel turned to examine himself at the mirror. "I look disgusting."

Nicolette seemed offended by that. Or she really was just a natural actress. "P-pointless stupidity? Y…you called my dress…a pointless stupidity? H…How _dare_ you! What a _…c-cruel_ brother you are! Nina! _Ninaaa!_ Lecture him!"

Miss Hopkins stepped forward and took the stage with a strict tone to her words, tapping her palm with a long conductor's stick that she'd magically gotten out of nowhere.

"Lady Nicolette has the right of it, Lord Ciel," said she, her expression as grim as that of an executioner's. "You are nothing but a blatant disgrace to mankind, the offensive stain of nature's white underpants."

"Whatthe devil are you _talking_ about?" deadpanned Ciel.

"You do NOT just call a woman's dresses to be a _pointless stupidity_!" harped Nina, pouring out her hatred of men in her glorious words of wisdom. "What, just because you're wearing a woman's dress, you feel _disgusted_ already? Lord Ciel! Why, that is an extremely outrageous offense to womanhood! A man like you—WHY—you should be _sued and put to jail!_ Putting women in such stereotypes and then calling us disgusting! How DARE you! You men are nothing but close-minded ignoramuses, strutting around like the pompous cocks you are, unable to appreciate, simply _exploiting_ the beauty that is womankind!"

"Yes, yes, well…" Ciel was too tired to react to that. All he wanted was to get out of this blasted dress already.

Simply imagine his relief when the whole ordeal was finally over and Nina Hopkins had to say her cheerios.

"Expect your new clothing to arrive in a little less than two weeks!" she said, waving her hand in the air as her assistants brought her suitcases back into her carriage. "Au revoir, my lovely little pets!"

Nicolette waved a kerchief at her. "Ta-ta, Nina! I hope to see you soon!"

"I'm sure we will, my lady! Oh, and why put such a sour face on, little Lord Ciel?" Nina snickered. "Aren't you happy? You're going to have new clothes in two weeks' time! Isn't that just _thrilling?_ "

Stretching a smile was pushing it too far. "Y…yes. Goodbye, Miss Nina."

The rest of the days proceeded on without any such rowdiness, thank goodness. Ciel had never thought that he'd ever be thankful to just be in the Chambers' library, doing nothing but read over tedious family facts and all that. Meanwhile, Sebastian's reports came and went. The names were all starting to get mixed up inside Ciel's head at their abundance, but he told himself that he had to continue pushing forward and search for clues.

 _1\. Viktor Windsor-Spaskaya, 16. Anglo-Russian._ He was the son of a rich Englishwoman who married a powerful Russian, the owner of the famous industrial company called the Vikratech Industries.

 _2\. Armando Lucio, 13. Italian._ He was the son of a powerful couple who own the large art dealing company known well around the world by the name of Magni-Arts Industries.

 _3\. Ambrose Milan, 14. English._ His parents own some other of company that Ciel had little care about.

 _4\. Josef de Lafayette, 15, French._ Idem.

 _5\. Gilbert Andrés, 16, French._ Idem.

File per file, Ciel found that every single one of them had once been rich boys, indeed.

Once Sebastian was done bringing in all the reports on the fifteen boys, Ciel issued a new command—to bring him the names of those who are still in the academy as of the moment. The butler immediately got to work.

And then Ciel was once again left to learn about Ciel Chambers. Previous school: Eton College. Birthdate: November 24, 1875. Family: Lady Antonia Vivienne Nicolette Chambers, sister; Lady Chambers, Viscountess of Druitt, mother; and Aleistor Chambers, Viscount of Druitt, father. Hobbies?

Ugh.

 _Unicorns._

Despite all that garbage, he still had to go through the everyday trouble of having to tolerate Lady Nicolette's pranks and all her deviltry—he'd really rather _not_ , but Lord Grey had insisted that they at least spend time together three hours per day, reading books aloud to each other or cross-stitching or cooking food for their mother who had suddenly gotten ill with a fever one day.

All of these ended up with Ciel obtaining a lovely bruise on his arm after having been 'accidentally' hit by a book, his arms deliberately pricked with stitching needles, and his face covered with soot that smelt of burnt nuts, respectively, courtesy of the vain Lady Antonia Vivienne Nicolette.

Charles Grey decided that he should probably commend on the young earl for his nice work—after all, it was obvious that Ciel's temper was merely dangling on a thin thread now—but Grey had some critiques of his own regarding Ciel's acting skills, to be honest.

"You're doing splendidly, really, but there's one thing you haven't done yet, Earl."

" _What?"_ snapped Ciel. Really, the people around him _always_ had to be gits.

The git grinned. "You haven't said the word 'unicorns' yet."

Twitch.

Twitch.

That was the most movement Ciel could manage at the moment.

"And why on the bloody Earth do I have to do _that?_ "

" _Unicorns_. Just say the word! U-ni-corns. Come, little earl!" cheered Grey, a little bit _too_ merrily. "I know you can do it! Come, now! Be a nice puppy and sing it with me! _Unicorns!_ "

"No."

"Whaaat?" And Charles had had such high expectations. "Here I was, thinking that you're such a great actor, when you're just actually _nothing_ but a bland disappointment! You _have_ to practice doing it, Earl Phantomhive. The L'éveil will surely check on that. How else are you going to handle this entire getup if you can't even say _unicorns_?"

"Well," said Ciel, blushing tremendously, "I wouldn't _have_ to hadn't _you_ put up such an unnecessary disguise! You simply had to put that ridiculous mythical horned being in my biography, didn't you?"

"You have a way of stretching it out in boring words. Can't you simply say 'unicorns'? Come, now, it can't be _that_ difficult, can it?"

" _Difficult_ , my foot. If I recall correctly, _you_ were the one who made this entire ordeal pointlessly difficult."

"Is that so? Is the Earl of Phantomhive finally going to back down from the _difficult_ challenge?"

" _No."_ Ciel clenched his fingers, on the verge whipping out his pistol and blasting the brains out of this man's skull for real.

Ah. A comforting image.

"I am merely saying that this whole disguise is pointless," he huffed. "My original self would have been sufficient for the academy to accept me as I am, and yet _you_ —"

"Oh, I'm not sure about that. Weren't you just whining about how they wouldn't accept you if you enrolled as Ciel Phantomhive?" Lord Grey smirked. An infuriating smirk which could have been very well used as a shooting board during target practice whenever Ciel had to exercise the use of his pistol. "In any case, you very well know that you _can't_ enrol with your original self. The academy only accepts boys with behavioural problems, after all, and Ciel Phantomhive does not suffer from such things…" Grey replaced his smirk with something even far more infuriating—an innocent smile.

"…right?"

Ciel glared at him. Then he turned around to walk away, muttering under his breath only one word.

"Lunatic."

Grey's merry eyes sharpened like a blade. "What was that?"

"Nothing. What's my schedule for this day again?"

Grey rolled his eyes. And he'd been expecting to banter with the lord a little while longer.

"A boring sod through and through, eh? Well, no matter. Yesterday, we received a letter from the academy. They said that they're sending over a doctor to see you."

Ciel arched an eyebrow at that, confused. "A doctor?"

~`.'~

And so, that very day, it just so happened that a doctor came knocking upon their door. He had been sent by the academy L'éveil de Castor to check on some young man that he heard to be very kind, very polite, and very well-mannered. In fact, the doctor was very excited to see the young boy, indeed. It was very rare that he had to deal with people with dementia, and conditions suffered by mentally ill people always fascinated him.

However, recently, his Master Reynard had been having his doubts. The spies he had sent several days ago had not yet returned—he wondered what happened to them…? Master Reynard even went so far as to suspect that Ciel Chambers was actually not the person he claimed to be; why, he even came to the conclusion that he was just a spy of the Queen, and the ones he'd sent to the Druitt Estate were being eliminated because of being witnesses!

And so, his Master Reynard had especially chosen him to be the doctor to make sure that Ciel Chambers is, actually, the Ciel Chambers according to his biographies. The doctor felt quite proud of himself. He was, after all, one of the professionals of a newly born science—the fascinating field of psychology. He'd taken all his lessons from Professor Sigmund Freud himself. The doctor had always prided himself to be a very good judge of character, and he had not a doubt that he would be the one to prove whether or not such a child could be a spy himself, and eventually calm down Master Reynard's suspicions.

The large doors of the Druitt Manor opened to reveal a face that didn't really look very happy to see him. He had grey eyes and flowing white hair, and an outfit that seemed far too expensive to be that of a servant. Hmmm. Perhaps the Chambers really are as rich as the doctor thought they were.

"Who the hell are you?" asked the white-clothed servant. "I thought we're going to meet some doctor today."

The doctor felt rather insulted by that. Nevertheless, he contained himself, breathed out his anger, told himself to count from one to ten, and calmed himself down to take this situation professionally.

He smiled liberally and held out a hand. "I am Doctor Aaron Miller, sent by the L'éveil de Castor. I am pleased to meet you."

The white servant only looked at the extended hand. Then he scoffed, leaving the doctor hanging.

"I am _so_ not touching the hands of an outsider."

Doctor Miller simply felt outraged at that. Why! Such a rude servant this manor has!

 _No. No. Calm yourself._ He had to govern his emotions, and not the other way around. He was a psychologist, after all. The doctor cleared his throat. _Take this situation professionally, Aaron Miller. Always hold your temper_.

"Ah, well," said he. "I came here to meet a young man. His name is…" He looked down at his records to check on it. "…Ciel Chambers, I believe. Is he here?"

A little boy came out of his hiding from behind the white servant. He looked a bit frightened to be seeing a stranger.

"Y…yes, Doctor? Wh-what is it that you w…would like from me?"

Doctor Aaron Miller stared at the boy, surprised, deeply moved by the young man's sparkling blue eye. He had expected someone who would look a lot more devious, someone who'd look a bit more of… _intimidating_ , what with all the descriptions his Master Reynard had been giving him. Why, they were absolutely wrong in their assumptions about this boy! Because, with that eye of his, with that smile of his, with that boyish, round face that could have only held laughter throughout his entire life…

 _This_ was the child Master Reynard feared to be a spy?

 _Pray tell,_ he thought to himself in a gasp, _just how on Earth can the L'éveil de Castor doubt such a young, adorable little man?_

"M-Mister Doctor?" interrupted the little boy in his little pre-pubescent voice. "Wh-why are you s-staring at me? I-I'm s-s-scared…"

"Oh!" said Doctor Miller, who snapped out of his trance at the little boy's prodding. "Don't be scared, little one!" Doctor Miller knelt in front of the child and put a hand on the boy's head. "Ah, so this is little Ciel, isn't it? Now, now, you can rest assured, I am a nice man and I will not hurt you. You're aware that you are going to go start attending classes in an entirely different school now, aren't you, young lord? Are you feeling afraid because of that?"

The little Lord Ciel seemed to fiercely agree with that, his lips trembling as the words came tumbling out of his mouth.

"Y-Yes, Mister Doctor! Oh, f-for once…finally, someone understands! I s-simply…I simply c-couldn't see why my p-parents had to…had to do such thing! B-But…I r-really have no choice but to c-comply with Mother's wishes, and…and…"

 _Ah,_ thought Doctor Miller, watching the boy with eyes filled with genuine sympathy. _So he is just a young boy, vulnerable and afraid of rejection. What is the L'éveil thinking, growing unnecessary suspicions over such an adorable young man?_

"Little Ciel. We are going to talk a little bit, okay? We are going to talk alone, and sort this out, so you will be ready to take your classes on the academy. You're just five days away until they pick you up, after all. Is that alright with you?"

Charles Grey—the alleged 'white servant'—was immediately alerted at that. The letter didn't say anything about this. The two of them? _Alone?_

Grey looked at Ciel, rather protectively. Of course, as much as he wanted to torture the Earl Phantomhive, he had a duty to make sure that the Watchdog is able to fulfil Her Majesty's wishes—that is, as long as he is within the responsibility of protecting the brat's life, of course.

Grey decided. "I'll go with you, if you don't mind."

"I _do_ mind." Doctor Miller held a hand out to stop him. "Please forgive me, but this is a psychologist's job. You can wait until we're done."

Grey fumed. "You don't _dictate_ my actions, you bloody—"

A little hand tugged onto Doctor Miller's coat quite shyly to interrupt the little conversation.

"A…actually, dear doctor, that man…s-scares me. He looks like…like…" The little boy paused to think about it for a moment. Then, little Ciel burst out, "…he looks like a hungry great white shark bearing its teeth at me, ready to devour me whole! H-he scares me so, dear doctor! Please take me away from him!"

" _Hey!_ " complained Grey. "I definitely hold more charm than a shark, young sir, thank you very much!"

Doctor Miller nodded to himself in understanding. A shark, eh? What an exaggerated comparison. Yes, yes, that's right. The biography _did_ mention that little Ciel spoke of things exaggeratedly.

 _He must be so fearful of everything around him,_ thought the kindly doctor. _The poor boy…_

"It seems that this young man does not want you hearing our conversation, after all," said Doctor Miller, decidedly. "I ask you not to try eavesdropping into our conversation. It may make little Ciel more uncomfortable. Please simply do as I say and be a good servant."

"Servant?!" Grey was outrageous. _Servant?_ Just because he was the one who opened the door for this lowborn doctor, he was already seen as a _servant?_

"D-Doctor?"

Doctor Miller smiled down at the child. "Yes, little Ciel?"

"I'd be really more…c-comfortable, if we put him outside."

Grey's indignation burst out, pride seriously damaged. " _I beg your pardon?!_ "

He was _not_ just about to be thrown outside like a dog!

Doctor Miller, however, gave Ciel a nod of approval. Then, Ciel went over to Grey and pushed the 'servant' outside of the manor.

"Wha— _hey!_ —how DARE you!"

Ciel smirked up at him—a smirk so intimidating that anyone who would have looked down on him would feel like they were being looked _upon_.

A horrible feeling, in Grey's opinion.

"Wait here outside, okay, servant?"

And the door closed.

~`.'~

"So, Ciel." Doctor Miller clapped his hands together, glad that he and little Ciel were finally alone in a room where he could thoroughly sort this thing out once and for all. "In this session, we're going to have to be honest with ourselves. Let us throw away the assumptions of our friends, family, everyone—let's be comfortable that it's just you and me in this room, and no one else will ever be able to know anything that's gone on between us. Is that a deal? You're going to be honest?"

Little Ciel fidgeted with his fingers for a bit, as if unsure of what to answer. "Y…yes, doctor."

"Very good!" commended Doctor Miller. _Children would feel more assured if they are given praise_ , thought the doctor. Then, he immediately delved into the discussion, all professional like the world-renowned psychologist he was. "Hmmm…what happened to your eye?"

Little Ciel immediately seemed panicked at the question. "Doctor, no. P-P-Please, don't speak of it. Only the…the…" _Heh._ "…the… _unicorn_ …should know about this."

"Ah. A unicorn." Doctor Miller didn't at all seem surprised at that. "So, you believe in unicorns?"

"Yes, doctor. I have studied about them."

"Studied? So you have actually _seen_ one?"

"Yes. A unicorn is a horse made of silver, and I have a pet unicorn."

"Uh…a pet?"

"Yes. And I have named this unicorn Charles Grey." Ciel bowed his head low, so the doctor wouldn't be able to see that devious smirk growing on his face. _I know you're listening to this conversation, Grey._ "He is a noble stag, such a lovely horse he is." Then, Ciel, the devious actor, snapped his head up at the doctor, his face pleading and near to tears. "B-But he doesn't seem to like me! He can be quite the nuisance, you wouldn't imagine, dear doctor! He bucks around like a rabid dog whenever I forget to feed him his medicines! He becomes…such…an _animal!_ "

Grey, who managed to be able to eavesdrop into the conversation from afar, twitched.

"Ah…" Due to the nature of the conversation, Doctor Miller decided that he should probably change the subject. "Well, little Ciel, I'm going to start asking you something very important. Is your life going on well?"

"Why, yes, doctor. I am under the contract of a demon."

For a moment, the doctor was rendered into a state of utter shock. A contract…demon?

This _child?_

No…no. Of course not. This is the nineteenth century!

"A _contract_ , you say, little Ciel?" he said, laughing heartily.

"Yes, indeed!" responded 'little Ciel'. "And such a good thing, it is, I tell you."

"But why would being contracted to a demon be such a good thing, I wonder?"

"Because I'd have a butler by my side who could do anything that I would want him to do for me."

A butler. A demon. Doctor Miller was seriously beginning to have a hard time trying to connect two and two together. Tsk tsk. This really _was_ a case of serious dementia.

Then he came to a conclusion. The boy said, 'a butler by my side', didn't he? Ah. An imaginary friend. This boy mustn't have any…

"Friends. How about friends, Ciel? Do you have anyone close to you?"

Ciel recoiled a little bit from that, as if the question itself hurt. "N…no." Then, his voice dropped into a trembling whisper. "I…I don't have any friends."

Doctor Miller decided to take a step further. "How about your sister?"

"No!" shouted little Ciel, who seemed terrified at even the mention of such a being. "No. Th-there's nothing wrong with my sister, Doctor. D-Don't worry about it. There's nothing wrong with her. Nothing."

"Ciel…"

"No, I swear! N-N-Nicolette is very k-k-kind to me, and…and…"

"Ciel." Doctor Miller made sure to be firm and gentle with his words. "I am a psychologist. I can tell when you are lying."

 _Ha-ha._

Ciel's little shoulders trembled at that, and the doctor interpreted that as a restrained sob. The poor boy really _is_ just a vulnerable child, isn't he…

"She…she…" Ciel began, tremblingly.

"She…?"

"She…she told me that I am a…a…" Then boy stopped himself. "No. _No_. You will tell this to my parents. I can't say anything to you. I can't trust anyone. _I c-can't trust anyone._ Not anymore."

"Ciel," said Doctor Miller, patiently. "You can trust me. This is an important family matter. Of course I will have to tell this to your parents. This is serious."

"No. I can't. If Mother and Father would know…"

"I promise that they won't be too harsh on her."

That seemed to convince little Ciel to finally speak his thoughts.

"She…Nicolette, she…" the young boy gulped down a lump in his throat, as if he was about to cry.

 _Oh, the irony._

"…she told me that I am a sapless imbecile and that I would never amount to anything more than a p-p-p-prostitute on the East End!" Tears sprang from Ciel's eyes for real this time. First-class Phantomhive performance. "J-Just because I c-c-c-caught her stealing money from Mother!"

Doctor Miller was scandalized.

" _Outrageous!_ Your sister had been very cruel to you indeed!" The doctor rapidly scribbled this new titbit down into his notepad. Then he checked on his notes before looking back up at his patient once more. "And it says here that you've been bunking classes as well. Why do you do so? Is this because you've been bullied, not only by your sister, but also by your peers?"

"I…I have to attend to Her Majesty's business."

The doctor choked on that. " _Her Majesty?_ "

"Why, of _course_ , doctor! I may be the King of the little game that we play, but don't you know that I am also the Queen's dog?"

 _Delusional. That's what this boy is._

"Ciel." Doctor Miller looked at the boy squarely in the eye. "You are only suffering from depression because of being bullied by others. Face them. Don't let them define who you are. Every person is unique, and I know, I _know_ you are a special boy. You _can_ be special, if you just don't let them define who you really are, who you _choose_ to become. Do you understand my words, little one?"

Ciel inwardly rolled his eyes at that. _How many times did you say the same words over and over again to your other patients, eh, Doctor?_

"Th…thank you so much for your very wise and inspiring words, dear Doctor."

Doctor Miller seemed to be utterly proud of himself for having so easily gone through a session, and with personal compliments from the child nonetheless. Yes, indeed, he was becoming more and more of a brilliant psychologist—and a good judge of character at that! Master Reynard shall be pleased to hear that Ciel Chambers should be cleared of all suspicion now.

"Do you have anything else that you would want to tell me?" said the doctor, gently.

"N-No, Doctor."

The doctor smiled. "Then that is all we have for today. Well. Nice meeting you, young man."

Once they got out of their little room, Doctor Miller decided that he should go and consult the Viscountess of Druitt first before leaving. Why, he had such a kind heart, and he would have to help little Ciel to overcome his family troubles! That is the job of a psychologist, after all. Maybe little Ciel would improve if his older sister started to treat him like a baby brother.

"Your son told me that his sister had been bullying him, Madame Chambers," he told the lady, with a serious note to his tone. "It is greatly affecting his overall attitude, and making his anxiety towards people even worse." Doctor Miller bit his lip miserably. He really wished that he wouldn't be the one to bring this news to the mother. But he _had_ to. It was a doctor's job.

"I'm afraid that your son, Little Ciel…he had completely regressed into a world of his own, in his desperateness to gain control over a life governed by tormentors." Doctor Miller gazed into the brown eyes of the Viscountess. "I'm really sorry."

"Oh, doctor," breathed Lady Chambers, a worried tremble in her words. "Is there any chance for my little boy to heal again?"

"Yes, my lady, of course!" assured the doctor. "We would just have to start with the little things. And it concerns…ah! So _that_ is Little Ciel's sister, the Lady Nicolette I've heard so much about?"

Lady Nicolette stopped walking and halted her chatting with her three other friends.

"What now?"

"You, my lady!" Doctor Miller pointed at her the finger of accusation. "You have been the primary cause of your little brother's mental illness!"

" _What?_ I don't know what you're talking about."

"Ha! On the contrary," said the triumphant doctor, "Little Ciel here had admitted that, just because he caught you stealing money from your mother, you have been calling him—" Doctor Miller checked his notes— "a _sapless imbecile_ who would never amount to anything more than a _prostitute_ on the East End!"

That earned a genuine gasp of shock from Nicolette's friends, especially her mother.

"Nicolette!" said the Viscountess, sternly, this time out of her act. "How vulgar of you!"

"Wha…no, _NO!_ " yelled Nicolette, her face reddening. " _He_ was the one who said that to _me_ —"

"Nonsense! So that's why my purse is always empty of money! How detestable of you!" The Viscountess marched forward to grab her daughter by the arm. "You are _grounded_. You will stay in your room all night and study your lessons!"

"What! But _Mother!_ "

Nicolette's friends snickered behind their fans as they watched the entertaining scene play out before them.

"Oh, look at her, she's going be spanked…"

"This shall be fun to watch!"

"Her mother _still_ spanks her?"

"How pathetic!"

The Viscountess whirled around to the giggling girls and shooed them. "Nicolette is grounded now, so you may all go." She turned to the doctor. "Thank you, Doctor Miller, for making me aware of this matter. Good day."

But, then of course, Nicolette tried to tell her mother the truth. No one would absolutely listen to her, though. After all, _she_ was more compatible to commit such a crime than Ciel Chambers was. So, she could do nothing all day but cry.

When Grey asked Ciel later that day what he'd just done to the sobbing Lady Nicolette this time, the devious little Phantomhive could only smirk.

"Why, I've done nothing at all, Lord Grey," said the young boy, his words dripping of sickly sweet innocence. "After all, I _am_ just a very kind, very polite, and very, _very_ well-mannered boy…"

Ciel smirked up at Grey. Ah, he simply could not contain it.

"…am I not?"


End file.
